Chapter 95: Mistaken for a Suspicious Professor (2) |
*
The Garden of Stars, Eschenwald Academy.
This garden of learning, founded centuries ago in the Emperor's own name, had cradled the youth of countless heroes.
Great thinkers, commanders of successive Imperial Household Knight Orders, Tower Masters of Magic Towers—even cardinals.
Children blessed with the talents of stars had passed through this academy,
and here, they had kindled their own starlight.
Of course, not all who entered possessed stellar talent, nor did all carry such lofty aspirations.
Many simply wedged themselves through its doors, desperate to forge connections with those stars—even if they themselves could never become one.
— 'Eschenwald Academy alumnus.'
Eschenwald Academy was at once a holy land of learning, and a place one simply had to pass through on the road to success.
Spring had come to that garden.
The smog rivaling that of the capital cast sunlight on the lion statue in the plaza—bright enough for spring, perhaps, but a touch murky.
Around the lion statue, along the roads branching to either side, streams of carriages and students cut across the stone.
— "Good morning, Young Master Pornea."
— "Your name... that's right! You're Senior Lesia, aren't you?"
— "The uniform suits you, Randy."
A student greeting the son of one of her family's retainers.
A student piecing together the name of a senior he'd just met at the opening ceremony.
A student exchanging a wave with his fiancée across the path.
Perhaps because the new semester had only just begun—
even in the early morning hours of the commute, the exchanges between students were lively.
— "There's no need to use honorifics with me, Young Lady!"
— "How could I not, Kal? You placed third in the entrance examinations."
Among them, it wasn't uncommon to see a noble young lady speaking warmly to a commoner.
Students who had enrolled in this Garden of Stars—particularly those in the Hero Department or the Department of Healing—were essentially promised success, barring any serious reason for disqualification.
Even a commoner who enrolled here had every chance of eventually earning a title of nobility.
And so, within these walls, one's grades were as good as one's social status.
— "Kal, would you like to have lunch together today?"
— "I... I already have plans with a childhood friend..."
It was hardly strange, then, to see nobles approaching Kal—a commoner-born swordsman.
And yet.
Even in a place like this, there were those whom no one approached—despite high family standing and equally high marks.
— "That blonde over there..."
— "Is that Young Lady Hausen?"
— "The famous one..."
Charlotte Eschenwald.
Her public identity: Shallot Hausen.
As she walked down the corridor, students quietly edged away.
A marquis family represented the highest title a noble could realistically attain.
And Charlotte's grades, too, were more than sufficient to walk these halls with her head held high.
Yet a full week had passed since the opening ceremony, and not a single student had approached her.
The reason was one.
— "Did she really have to embarrass Young Master Russell like that...?"
On the very first day of the semester, Charlotte had publicly humiliated a young master from a count's family—and the fallout had never quite settled.
— "Miss Hausen. I am from the Russell Count's family..."
— "Your attempt to get close to me is appreciated, but if your purpose is to shed the sorrow of being an illegitimate son through my connections, I'm afraid there's little I can do for you. Our marquis family is an inspector's family—we must always maintain neutrality in the political world."
— "...Pardon?"
— "Your necktie was tied by someone else, and tied poorly at that. Your uniform is creased from being pressed, and your dress shoes are scuffed. That suggests a handmaid of rather poor skill. For a young master of a count's family to arrive at the Academy with such a handmaid means his standing within the household is precarious. Given all that—even if you approach me suddenly with warmth, there is nothing I can do to change your circumstances."
It had been orientation, the morning after the opening ceremony.
The very first words she had offered as a greeting.
Young Master Russell, who had heard every word, flushed crimson with shame and retreated.
And after that incident, not a single student had spoken to her.
It was, in a sense, entirely natural.
Power and skill meant nothing without popularity—people simply don't gather around someone they can't warm to.
And since she had no desire to grow close to anyone in the first place, there was even less reason for anyone to try.
— "She was already known in social gatherings, just... for different reasons..."
— "I heard her social skills improved after the engagement."
— "If anything, it seems like they've gotten worse."
Word travels fast.
Charlotte had, quite unintentionally, become something of a celebrity—mostly for the wrong reasons.
'They know I can hear them.'
But she didn't particularly mind.
Even back in the Imperial Castle, she had been treated in much the same way.
Who would ever want to get close to someone who could look into your past—even the parts you most wished to hide?
The only reason she had come to the Academy at all was to attend one person's lectures.
Which was why she had no particular stake in how her youth here unfolded.
'My next class is...'
She was walking alone down the corridor, turning her next lecture over in her mind, when someone suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.
"Charlotte. Have you eaten lunch?"
"I have, Jenny."
She turned to find a dark-haired girl looking back at her.
Her curly hair fell short, ending just above the shoulders, and a faint tiredness lingered behind those purple eyes.
Her name was Jenny Raylick.
Charlotte's roommate, and a student in the Department of Healing.
"What did you have?"
"Cheese and crackers."
She was also, as of one week into the semester, Charlotte's first and only friend.
Because on their very first day in the dormitory—despite Charlotte's rudeness—Jenny hadn't minded in the least.
— "How did you know I was an apprentice healer on a battlefield? My brother would bring me along sometimes. But your deduction that he was a drug addict, or that we were on bad terms—that part was wrong. He used to be, but lately he's been going out more and he's kicked the habit, so we're actually on good terms now."
Perhaps it was because the deduction had been wrong.
And so Jenny had become Charlotte's only friend.
"That's not right. Meals are important, Charlotte."
"Cheese and crackers are sufficient for my daily calorie intake."
"Do you genuinely think you can win an argument about nutrients in front of the Department of Healing?"
"..."
Charlotte pressed her lips together.
Were healers always this prone to nagging?
Her fiancé was the same, and now her roommate too.
She couldn't understand why every time they met, the subject of food had to come up.
"Come on, let's go to the dining room together."
"...That's the one thing I really can't do. The school meals aren't just lacking in nutrients—they taste awful."
"Ha... that's true enough."
Jenny's cheek gave a stiff twitch.
The Academy's meals were infamous for being terrible.
And for good reason. The Eschenwald Academy dining hall employed no regular cooks.
The ones who worked the kitchen were mess cooks pulled in from the military.
What they worked with were the standard military supplies dropped in fixed rations from the Imperial Army's rear supply depots—
hardtack, canned beans, salted pork, vegetables fermented just sour enough to last.
The taste, predictably, was dismal.
There was even a historical record of an imperial family member who had once lodged a formal complaint with the Chancellor over this very matter.
— "These students are talents who will contribute to the future of humanity. The Academy bears responsibility not only for the Empire's children, but for those of other nations as well—how they are treated here is nothing short of a matter of imperial prestige. And yet, with more than sufficient budget, why is the food the one thing that never changes?"
To which the Chancellor had replied:
— "Half the students in this garden will walk onto a battlefield after graduation. Whether it's a Demonic Realm or a dungeon—no one there is going to serve them black truffle consommé. How is someone who can't stomach a piece of military hardtack supposed to come back alive from that?"
After that, no one had anything more to say about the Academy's meals.
"I don't intend to go to a battlefield, so I see no reason to adjust my palate accordingly. Cheese and crackers are more than adequate."
"Still, you need to get your nutrients. Your fiancé is a professor, isn't he? He'll worry."
"..."
Charlotte's shoulders gave the faintest flinch.
She opened her mouth, expression slightly sour.
"Then what if we use our allowance to have lunch somewhere outside?"
By "outside," she didn't mean beyond the Academy's walls.
The entire fortress grounds were Academy property—stepping outside those walls would simply mean becoming a demonic beast's next meal.
What Charlotte meant by "outside" was outside the student area.
"The restaurants in the commercial district are more than worth visiting."
The Academy grounds were divided into many sectors.
The student area, where students lived and studied.
The military district, responsible for the city's security.
The industrial district, where goods were manufactured.
The commercial district, which existed to serve all of them—and more.
Among these, the restaurants of the commercial district were facilities intended primarily for workers from other sectors, not students.
There was no school rule prohibiting students from using those restaurants.
"Do you have enough allowance, Jenny?"
What stood in their way instead was the Academy's currency—doing the work of rules it didn't need to write.
Academy currency.
Colloquially: allowance.
Eschenwald Academy was, at its core, a military academy, and as such, no outside currency was permitted within its walls.
All transactions conducted inside were done exclusively in Academy currency.
Issued once a month, combining dignity maintenance expenses and living expenses, the amount one received was determined entirely by one's grades.
This too was considered part of the training—an exercise in adapting to conditions in the field.
"You placed well in the entrance examinations, so surely your allowance couldn't have run out already."
Charlotte thought back to her roommate's grades, and the amount she herself had received upon enrollment.
Unless someone had done something extraordinarily foolish, that sum simply couldn't be depleted yet—
"...Ah... um..."
"Jenny?"
"The thing is..."
Jenny's gaze began to slide carefully sideways.
"I spent it all yesterday..."
"...Where?"
"I thought four of a kind was good enough to go all-in on... I just didn't expect a straight flush to show up..."
"..."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed to a squint as she stared at her.
"Is that appropriate conduct for a priest?"
"Hear me out. Among the gods, there is a God of Amusement. I was simply practicing a healthy life of faith."
"There is also, as I understand it, a Goddess of Temperance."
"..."
Jenny pressed her lips firmly together.
"I don't suppose the dignity maintenance expenses are gone as well?"
"...That's why I've arranged to work in the infirmary starting tomorrow evening."
"I see."
Charlotte exhaled a quiet sigh.
Then she reached into her pocket, pulled out a silver coin, and tossed it to Jenny.
"Wait—this much?! Does the Hero Department get a lot more allowance or something?"
"That, and my living expenses are more than sufficient on their own, so I have the dignity maintenance expenses left over."
"But aren't you from a marquis family, Charlotte? Surely your dignity maintenance expenses must be enormous?"
"I didn't take a carriage to school, so I didn't need to spend anything there, and I didn't bring a handmaid."
Partly because there hadn't been any handmaids who wanted to come along.
"You... you are actually from a marquis family, right?"
She barely stopped herself from saying no.
Instead, Charlotte offered only this:
"Even at the Academy, I've never before met a commoner who could speak to a marquis' daughter so informally."
"Oh, right."
Jenny gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
She tucked the silver coin Charlotte had given her carefully into her pocket and swept a hand through her curly dark hair.
"Come to think of it—one of your mandatory courses is the Black Magic Defense Arts, isn't it?"
"Yes. This afternoon, after lunch."
It happened to be her very next slot.
A lecture she would finally be attending, one week into the Academy.
"They say it's a course the military newly established. How important must it be to make it a mandatory one? Usually something like Magical Beast Studies or Demonkin Studies would be mandatory."
"I wouldn't know."
Military affairs were outside Charlotte's interest.
"Then let's eat first and head over together."
"You're taking it too, Miss Jenny?"
"Yes. It's not mandatory for healers, but among us it was quite competitive."
"Are healers interested in fighting black sorcerers?"
"It's not that. A few years back, Director Schun used black magic to develop something called a vaccine, right? And apparently two new vaccines are coming out this year. That's got a lot of aspiring healers interested in black magic."
"I see."
Charlotte found a trace of displeasure rise in herself.
She attributed it to concern that too many students flooding in would make the lecture unruly.
"Now that I think about it—other engaged couples get caught sneaking around the dormitories because they want to see each other. But your fiancé hasn't shown his face once in a whole week."
"My fiancé is strict about conduct in many respects."
"Even so, a professor would have ways to come see you."
"Which is precisely why, because he's a professor, he's being careful about his conduct."
Charlotte recalled the conversation she and Yulian had shared before the opening ceremony.
— "Just so you know—within the Academy, I'll treat you as a student before anything else. And naturally, there'll be no special treatment when it comes to your grades."
— "I know."
Entirely like him.
"Then let's have lunch quickly. I doubt my fiancé is the type to overlook tardiness—even for me."
"Your fiancé sounds stricter than I expected."
"If anything, he may be stricter because I'm his fiancée."
*
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
The lecture hall for the Black Magic Defense Arts course was located in the innermost part of the east wing of the Main Building—positioned at a depth that put it nearly half underground.
With ceilings twice the height of a standard classroom, this hall was primarily used for mandatory subjects.
It was, however, slightly different from the other lecture halls in one particular way.
"They've used obsidian as a buffer material. Eavesdropping would be nearly impossible with this."
In the gaps running along one of the walls—
the thin crack revealing a dark powder—Charlotte murmured to herself.
Obsidian.
A material with a powerful interfering effect against clairvoyance, eavesdropping magic, and the like.
Lead had similar properties, of course.
But you couldn't fill entire walls with lead, so it had been replaced with obsidian, which carried a comparable symbolism.
"You'd only see something like this in an archmage's workshop. The military must consider this course quite important."
"Have you actually been to an archmage's workshop?"
"A few times, when I was young."
For a moment, Charlotte thought of her guardian.
The one-eyed old man had occasionally brought her and her brother to his workshop, where he'd taught them a handful of spells.
He'd said he found the siblings' talent interesting.
Though he'd never taken either of them on as a proper disciple.
Murmur, murmur.
As Charlotte and Jenny settled into the front row, students began pouring in behind them.
"There are a lot of people."
"I told you—it was competitive even within the Department of Healing. I heard there were so many disappointed students that they expanded the class size and held a second round of applications."
Hearing that, Charlotte felt—once more—that she'd made the right choice enrolling in the Hero Department.
This lecture had originally been open to students from other departments as well.
She hadn't needed to join the Hero Department to attend it.
Even so, she had chosen the Hero Department specifically because, for its students, this lecture was mandatory—meaning she could attend without having to compete for a spot.
"By the way—isn't it a bit much to sit in the very front row?"
"...?"
Charlotte tilted her head slightly.
Wasn't it better to sit up front if you were going to attend at all?
Jenny caught the look, understood immediately, and nodded with a small oh.
"Right. I suppose this professor isn't intimidating to you."
And so, before the lecture began—
while the two of them were in the middle of their conversation—
the other students in the hall were having much the same kind of exchange.
— "Does anyone know anything about Professor Yulian Nihilrit?"
— "Only that he's from a baronial family."
— "How did he become a professor? Eschenwald professors are usually at least from a viscount family, aren't they?"
That was how it went among the commoners.
Those who didn't attend social gatherings knew very little about Young Master Nihilrit.
In contrast, students from noble backgrounds—or those who kept close company with them—tended to know a good deal more.
— "I saw it myself, I'm telling you. Apparently he's the one who solved Imperial Prince Edmund's heir problem. And ever since, the Prince has been throwing his full support behind him."
— "Right. So it wasn't just a matter of some single medicine."
— "Maybe I should've been studying healing arts all along."
— "Don't bother. Even the Imperial Court Healers couldn't manage it. Whatever was possible—only Young Master Nihilrit could do it."
Among the crowd, there were also those who had questions about his past.
— "But why a Black Magic Defense course specifically? Is he actually skilled in black magic?"
— "The kidnapping incident that happened in the Academy's high school division—solving that was apparently what sealed it."
— "I know about that. The whole thing got completely overhauled afterwards. But what I want to know is—how did he end up knowing so much about black magic in the first place?"
— "Well, the Nihilrit family is a judicial officer family, apparently. A judicial officer's work tends to overlap quite a bit with black magic. So the story is he became an expert by helping his father with the job."
— "Oh, right. I knew I'd heard the name somewhere. The one who keeps solving unsolved cases—why didn't I put it together sooner?"
— "Come to think of it, there's someone in this very lecture hall who's also known for unsolved cases..."
And now and then, glances gathered at the back of Charlotte's head.
Through all of it, she didn't spare a single look in return.
She simply used the time before class began
to ready herself—so she could take down everything in her notebook the moment it started.
Jenny leaned close and whispered into Charlotte's ear.
"Actually, Charlotte."
"Yes?"
"Between you and your fiancé—who's solved more cases?"
Charlotte set her pen down.
For a moment she seemed to think, her gaze drifting to an empty line on the notebook before her.
Then the pen moved.
"Three hundred forty-one wins, thirty-two losses."
"Is your fiancé at three hundred forty-one?"
"No. I am."
"Huh? Then shouldn't you be the one at the podium?"
Charlotte shook her head.
"My fiancé is always the one posing the problems, so the advantage is naturally mine. I've also learned a great deal from him. And besides..."
Her gaze shifted to the chalkboard.
"He's far better at teaching than I am. Especially when it comes to black magic."
Jenny was quietly impressed.
Charlotte's reputation among those her age was far from insignificant.
She had solved countless unsolved cases—noble and commoner alike—in an instant, and her face had appeared in the newspapers more times than could be counted.
Her deeds had even earned her a sobriquet: Phoenix of the Corner Room.
And the person she was willing to acknowledge—
'The world really is wide, and there really are that many geniuses.'
Jenny found herself already curious about this Yulian.
Though, of course, in a world this wide, there were always those who questioned even the most extraordinary reputations.
Among the students, there were more than a few who doubted the name of Yulian Nihilrit.
— "I was interning at the April Magic Tower last summer and heard something—apparently Professor Nihilrit published two papers in the Arcane Olympiad."
— "Two? Come on, that has to be a rumor. At his age? Two at the same time?"
— "Exactly—so I didn't believe it either, and I went looking. But no matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find a single paper written under the name Nihilrit."
— "Then maybe he became a professor through some... irregular means?"
— "But the judging panel includes high-ranked mages—the Great Sage is one of them. Would someone like that have allowed it?"
— "That's a fair point. So what, ghostwriting?"
Every kind of speculation was flying around.
Some thought the rumors had simply been blown out of proportion.
Others suspected Imperial Prince Edmund had abused his authority.
And occasionally—in jest—someone would float the idea that the papers might have been classified at Danger Level 1 or above.
Naturally, no one actually believed that.
It didn't seem likely that the Imperial Court would let someone who'd written two Danger Level 1 papers simply walk around in public.
Creeeak—
Then, at half past two,
the door leading to the podium slowly swung open.
The first to enter was a woman.
The students' gazes converged on her all at once.
A slender elven woman, at least a hundred and seventy centimeters tall, stepped slowly up to the podium in a black suit.
She took her place there—where a professor was meant to stand—with calm composure.
The students murmured again.
— "Wait, wasn't it supposed to be a man?"
— "I heard he was... ordinary-looking?"
In the midst of that murmuring,
the elven woman, Presia, gave her fingers a light flick.
Shhh—
Blackout curtains descended from either side of the lecture hall.
Only after the room had dimmed slightly did the door at the back of the podium open once more.
A man stepped up to the podium, his dress shoes clicking against the floor.
"Oh my."
Jenny covered her mouth with her hand.
"Charlotte—I didn't think you were the type, but you do have a thing for looks, don't you?"
"..."
Charlotte said nothing—as though the comment wasn't worth dignifying—and fixed her gaze on the professor now standing at the podium.
The professor on the platform—Yulian—swept his eyes once across the lecture hall.
His gaze lingered briefly on Charlotte, but he offered not so much as a glance of recognition.
Exactly as he had said—he would treat her as a student.
"Good afternoon."
Yulian straightened his collar and opened his mouth.
"Many of you, I imagine, I am meeting for the first time. My name is Yulian Nihilrit, and I will be teaching the Black Magic Defense Arts course this semester."
His low, composed voice carried through the entire lecture hall, amplified by amplification magic.
"Before we begin the first session of this course, I will need one thing from all of you."
Rustle—
From the hands of the woman who had entered before him, a sheaf of papers rose into the air.
They descended, one to each student's desk.
Yulian addressed the hall.
"Everything discussed within this lecture hall must not be disclosed outside of it. Any misuse of this information will be subject to aggravated punishment. Those who agree may sign the paper in front of you. Those who do not are free to leave."
His gaze paused, just for a moment.
Among the Hero Department students, it settled on Charlotte and Kal.
"Additionally—Hero Department students are required to sign, as this is a mandatory course."
Remarkably.
Not a single person left.
