The Villains Just Keep Piling Up
Ever since Conradin had caught me, I made a point of putting on my uniform and heading for the academy building with my bag in hand, right on schedule, every single day.
And since I arrived when I was supposed to, Conradin didn't particularly trouble me today either, and I made it inside the academy without incident.
Not that getting in safely changed anything. The whispers and sidelong glances that surrounded me were as relentless as ever, and I had nothing at all with which to resist them.
All I could do was endure, one day at a time.
At the same time, a slow, creeping impatience was beginning to set in.
Being barred from leaving the dormitory at night had never been a thing in the alpha test version I'd played.
A new wall, rising from a place I had never considered and never anticipated. Somehow, I had to find a way through it.
Though before I could break through anything, the first order of business was deciphering the ancient script my damned Master had left behind.
And so, once the afternoon lectures wrapped up, I settled into a seat at the library and began combing through the mountain of dead-language dictionaries.
Which of these dictionaries held glyphs matching the characters Master had recorded in his ledger? I searched and searched, but as expected, nothing worthwhile turned up.
"Haaah…."
Thud!
The nomadic tribes' dead-language dictionary I'd picked up this time was a dud, too.
A few of its letters had looked similar enough to raise my hopes, but in the end they turned out to be nothing more than derivative characters.
I closed the book, and just as I was about to carry it back to its shelf—
Professor Tiur Musset appeared out of nowhere, right in front of me.
"Professor Tiur?"
"What's that book?"
"I'm in the Literature Department, remember? So I was planning to study dead languages…."
Snatch!
Professor Tiur Musset abruptly ripped the book out of my arms, and all I could do was blink rapidly, scrambling to make sense of the situation.
This was the man who had never said a word when I handled dead-language books before, and now he was pulling a stunt like this out of the blue—of course I was flustered. That was exactly why I tried to at least decode what was happening.
"Um… Professor?"
The professor examined the book once, then let out a long, deep sigh and spoke.
"Sheria, everything back here is the restricted section. Even I cannot take books from the restricted section at will."
"I'm… sorry? The restricted section? But students are allowed to read restricted books, aren't they—"
"It depends on the circumstances, as I've told you. Books concerning dead languages are prohibited."
"Still, I need this one for—"
Before I could even finish my excuses, Professor Tiur Musset heaved another sigh and said,
"Better to prove it once than explain it a hundred times, wouldn't you say?"
He led me over to the restricted stacks, tore a sheet of memo paper from his pocket, and flung it toward the restricted bookshelf—
Crackle! Fwoosh! BOOM!
WEEEOOOO—!!
Lightning, flame, and explosions erupted in a chain reaction, and warning sirens began to shriek.
"You wouldn't have walked away unscathed, and everyone in this vicinity, not to mention the guard post, would have been notified. This time I can cover for it by claiming I ran an inspection, but don't even think about laying a hand on these books."
It was unmistakably clear: at my current level, there was no breaking through that bookshelf.
No—odds were I wouldn't break through it even by the time of the game's ending.
My magical aptitude was rock-bottom. To put it bluntly, I'd be the weakest in this entire academy right up until graduation.
Maybe even the weakest in the academy's entire history.
In the end, there was only one thing left for me to say here.
"…Then how am I supposed to study dead languages?"
"Study dead languages, you say?"
"Yes…."
"Hmm… dead languages… The course change period is still open, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
At those words, Professor Tiur Musset nodded and brought up the name of a certain professor.
"Albert will be pleased."
"Albert?"
"Professor Albert of the Literature Department. He's just opened a new elective on dead languages. Enrollment is so thin the course might get cancelled, but if you join, it'll scrape by. Sit in on it and you might at least come away with a hint or two."
Albert—now that I thought about it, I did remember a professor by that name. Though this was the first I'd heard that he lectured on dead languages.
"Head to Albert's office now and file a course change request, and you'll make it with time to spare."
"Ah… yes…!"
"…I see nothing else that needs doing today, so you may leave early."
"Thank you, Professor!"
With a deep bow, I left Professor Tiur behind and set off for Professor Albert's office.
That is, if you overlooked one small problem….
"…Where, exactly, was Professor Albert's office?"
I had no idea where it was.
And so I resigned myself to searching the entire Literature Department building.
A good thirty minutes of rummaging through the Literature Department building later, I finally found it.
Professor Albert's Research Office
Professor Albert's office.
I drew a deep breath, let it out, and knocked on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Yes!"
A voice from within, far more cheerful and bright than you'd expect from a man.
Somewhat reassured by that voice, I stepped inside.
"Hello, I'm Sheria, a first-year in the Literature Department. I've come to register for the Fundamentals and Decipherment of Siderean lecture."
"…Seriously?"
The young professor before me, monocle gleaming, blinked rapidly—then sprang up from his seat and came straight over to me.
Grab!
"Oh, thank you, truly…! Without a student, the course would've been cancelled next week…! And then my research funding would've been slashed!"
"Ah… haha, glad I could help."
"So, your name?"
"Sheria. I have no family name."
"Right, right, Miss Sheria. Seventh-ranked entrant of the first-year Literature Department. Correct?"
How on earth did he know that?
I could only stare at him, flustered, and Professor Albert responded with a warm, agreeable smile.
"I'll process your registration right away. And if there's anything you'd like to ask, bring it to me whenever you like."
…Wait, really? I can really do that?
All I had to do was bring my questions here, and Professor Albert would teach me everything? Like a human translation machine?
Cradling that swelling hope, I was just about to trace out the characters I remembered and ask him about them—
—when I realized I couldn't.
These characters were tied to this world's destruction—and to the mastermind behind it.
What if I showed them to Professor Albert, who had done nothing wrong?
He could be endangered.
In the end, nothing changed: I would have to learn each piece myself and decipher it on my own.
Swallowing my disappointment, I signed the registration form, and Professor Albert gazed down at it with the most blissful smile plastered across his face.
"Thank you. Lectures are every Friday afternoon. That doesn't overlap with another class, does it?"
"No, nothing overlaps. I don't take afternoon lectures to begin with."
"Ahh~"
One sentence, and he'd apparently summed up my entire situation.
Perhaps because his reaction was so guilelessly honest, it didn't rub me the wrong way at all.
"That's a relief, then. See you at tomorrow's lecture."
"Yes, Professor. I'll see you tomorrow."
With one final bow, I stepped back outside, my footsteps a little lighter.
The hardest problem was finally showing signs of a solution, after all.
Beyond that, meeting someone friendly amid all these stifling, suffocating people had lifted my mood for no particular reason.
Then again, tally up the school figures who'd shown me kindness so far, and it came to exactly two: Aiden Dupin the detective, and Professor Albert, whose name I hadn't even known.
Ridiculous, honestly.
Still, all things considered, things had gone well.
I was making my way downstairs, steps still light, when—
A tall, powerfully built man with flashy blond hair looked my way, just once.
The archetypal tanned blond delinquent—written as filthy rich, with top-tier physical specs on top of it.
Yes, I knew this character.
Brandt Heidel.
Second son of the Heidel family—lesser nobility who had amassed a staggering fortune through the war-materiel trade.
He looked to be somewhere in the mid-to-high 170s, about the same height as Conradin, whom I passed every morning on the way to class—but with shoulders twice as broad and a face like a brute's, this man was, naturally, my designated humiliator.
The one consolation was that 'for now,' he tormented Sheria strictly in his capacity as a Disciplinary Committee member—so as long as I didn't violate any school rules, I had nothing to fear from him.
Which was why I simply tried to ignore him and walk past—
Grip!
"Kyaaah!?"
An enormous hand, closing in without warning.
That enormous hand had landed precisely beneath my skirt, seizing me squarely between the legs.
"Wh… what do you think you're—!?"
Squeeze! Squeeze!
"Hiik… nngh…!?"
The cry of a female in heat spilled from my lips.
And Brandt Heidel, looking thoroughly satisfied by that cry, began tormenting my pussy in earnest.
"Hey, newbie. That's you, right? The commoner."
"Nn…♡ hng…♡ hah…♡ aahhn…♡"
"They said your figure was straight out of a brothel—turns out the body itself is one too? I've barely been rubbing you and you're already trying to run off."
"N… no…♡ I wasn't…♡ it's just…♡ that's, se… senior, I…♡"
"Hm? What about me?"
Squeeeze—!
"Hyaaaahhhhn♡"
Trickle…
Brandt Heidel had pressed down hard, dead center, on my pussy's most tender spot.
Unable to offer any real resistance to his degradation, I ended up climaxing right there in the school corridor.
Pussy juices dribbling shamelessly down my thighs.
Slump!
I crumpled to the floor where I stood, and Brandt Heidel looked down at me.
"Name's Brandt Heidel. Let's get real friendly from now on, yeah?"
"Haaah…♡ hah…♡"
My body trembling too violently to manage any answer at all, Brandt Heidel simply watched me, looking thoroughly entertained.
Honestly, just when I'd thought today was my lucky day… it had to pull this at the very end…?