"You're saying I'm the professor's teaching assistant?"
*Wait, what are you talking about?*
Since when? I'd never heard anything like that — and I certainly had no intention of becoming one.
*…She's saying it to help me, isn't she?*
A lie, to pull me out from between Professor Kennedy and Professor Gil, who were both squabbling over me like I was some prize assistant (read: slave). That was what I chose to believe, at least.
"To think you'd try to poach my teaching assistant so brazenly… Gentlemen, this simply won't do."
Professor Vilhelmine rested a hand familiarly on my shoulder and addressed the two professors with calm authority.
"Hmm… Is that so?"
"…You were born with a soldier's gift. Why would you choose to remain a common foot soldier?"
The professors fell into reluctant silence as they met her blood-red eyes.
An opening.
I reached up and clasped Professor Vilhelmine's hand where it rested on my shoulder, and answered without hesitation. Her hand gave the faintest twitch.
"Yes. It's true."
At my words, the professors looked at me with eyes full of lingering regret.
"What a shame… what a shame. But you're welcome anytime, my boy. I have plenty of assistant positions to fill."
"Likewise. Come find me whenever you wish."
The two professors retreated, aided by Professor Vilhelmine's intervention.
Phew.
Having narrowly escaped a catastrophe, I let out a long breath and pressed a hand to my chest. That had been far too close.
"Thank you, Professor. You saved my life."
"I'm glad it helped."
"It helped enormously."
"Do you really dislike the idea of being a teaching assistant that much?"
"Is there anyone who'd actually want to be one?"
"Then what about being mine?"
"Pardon?"
What on earth are you saying all of a sudden—?!
"There happens to be a vacancy at the moment…"
"I — I'm perfectly fine, Professor! Truly!"
"I'm joking."
A faint smile broke through Professor Vilhelmine's expressionless face.
"…I actually thought you meant it."
"I won't deny the appeal, but I can hardly press the matter when you're so clearly opposed."
Professor Vilhelmine settled into the empty seat across from me and began pulling apart a piece of meat.
"Still, come to the training grounds often from now on. I'll personally oversee your swordsmanship."
Thank you, Professor.
* * *
I had promised to teach Yuri Ayende how to read.
I found her in the library, sitting with a picture book open in her lap. She spotted me and came trotting over.
"Starting lessons?"
"Yeah. Sit next to me."
Yuri pressed herself close beside me. I stacked the materials I'd prepared neatly on the desk.
*First, I need to gauge where she actually is.*
I handed her a novel — the kind any ordinary fifteen-year-old in the Empire could read without trouble.
"Try reading this."
"Read it?"
"Yeah, out loud. Quietly."
A nod.
Yuri traced her finger beneath each line of text as she read.
"'Albrecht felt …joy and ful…fillment. He couldn't help it. The husband of the woman he loved had died. She was a… wid… ow. Now he could have her all to him…self.'"
Halting. Stumbling. Whenever a difficult word appeared, her voice slowed to a crawl.
Hmm…
Not quite at a middle-school level yet.
"I don't understand it. Can Mati read it?"
"Yeah."
"Read it for me."
"'Albrecht felt joy and fulfillment. He couldn't help it. The husband of the woman he loved had died. She was a widow. Now he could have her all to himself.'"
"What's it about?"
She hadn't even understood the content.
"Do you know what a widow is?"
"Is it something to eat?"
"…Let's save that for later. It's roughly a love story."
Ugh.
We have a long road ahead.
I walked Yuri through the fundamentals of written language, step by step.
"Before you can read, the most important thing is knowing the words."
"Words."
"Let's start with vocabulary."
The Imperial script was nothing like Hangul. It wasn't Chinese characters either — it was something else entirely at its roots. Still, as a writing system that had grown from a culture, it had its patterns; once you reached a certain level, reading became much more manageable.
"Do you understand?"
"Understand?"
"…I mean, did you follow what I said?"
"I think so."
*I think so.*
That meant she hadn't.
*…This road is even longer than I thought.*
*
I somehow muddled through the first lesson with Yuri and was lounging about afterward, doing nothing in particular.
"Mati. Is there a next volume for this?"
Beside me, sprawled on the bed, was a blue-haired fairy reading a novel nearly bigger than she was.
Shu lifted the book and flew over, dropping it squarely onto Matyos's chest.
"It comes out next month. Be patient."
"Next month…? Why does it take so long? Can't they just write faster?"
"Why are you complaining to me about it?"
"You're a great noble. Go kidnap this author. Lock them in a cell and make them do nothing but write."
"That's called being a criminal."
"Do I look like I care?"
Is this thing actually a fairy?
A few months of exposure to modern conveniences, and the mystical ancient spirit had vanished entirely — replaced by something considerably more degenerate.
"Even nobles can't do that. It's a crime."
"Tch, you're so timid."
How did it come to this.
I batted Shu away with the back of my hand and closed my eyes. I was just settling in for a leisurely nap when someone knocked at the door.
"Mati. Come out."
That voice was my sister's.
…What does she want now?
I had a feeling something troublesome was about to happen.
I held perfectly still and made no sound.
Then:
"I know you're in there. Come out."
A voice full of certainty came through the door.
Damn it all.
I threw on something simple and went out. My sister was leaning against the doorframe in an elaborate dress.
"Today isn't massage day."
"That's not why I'm here."
She held out a card pinched between her index and middle fingers.
"A banquet. Get dressed and come out."
"A banquet…?"
Why would I need to go…
She'd always attended these things perfectly well on her own before.
"No back-talk. Get dressed quickly. I'll go change as well."
I didn't want to go, but she had done a great deal for me. Honestly, repaying all that with a single massage session felt a bit inadequate.
"Just this once."
"Fine, so please go put on your clothes."
My sister gave me a gentle push back into the room with her soft hands.
I dug out a long-neglected tailcoat from the wardrobe. It was something close to a black formal suit. I tied the cravat around my neck loosely, without much care.
When I stepped out, my sister — whose appearance was striking enough to leave even me momentarily dazed — narrowed her eyes and grabbed me by the collar. A wave of her rich, warm scent and the fragrance of roses hit me all at once.
"Are you trying to embarrass me? Tying your cravat like that — I'd love to see how well that goes over."
Deft fingers adjusted the loosely knotted cravat, tightening it properly.
"There. Done. Let's go."
I left the dormitory with my sister. A fine four-horse carriage was waiting outside. We climbed in, and the heavy carriage began to move.
My sister didn't say a single word the entire way. She rested her chin in her hand and gazed out the window.
We arrived before long at a grand, opulent manor.
"After the exams, the imperial nobility gathers once for a banquet. Nothing special. But stay by my side — don't wander off."
Click.
The moment she finished speaking, a servant opened the carriage door. My sister stepped out first, then turned back and extended her hand to me — a smile blooming across her face like a white rose.
"Shall we, then? My dear brother."
I took her hand. Though — wasn't this an escort? Weren't the roles usually reversed?
*Does it matter?*
I stepped down from the carriage, escorted by my sister. She looped her arm through mine and held it firmly.
"Lady Ofilienne Binna Moretti and Lord Matyos Binna Moretti — confirmed. Welcome."
The attendant verified our identities and opened the doors to the manor's banquet hall. Magnificent chandeliers scattered light in every direction. The center of the room was laden with an impressive spread of food. Imperial nobles stood about with fine champagne in hand, conversing with practiced elegance.
And there, at the center of the hall.
On a large red sofa sat the Crown Prince and a pink-haired woman. Crown Prince Wilhelm was pawing at the pink-haired woman while drinking wine as though it were water. The woman being touched squirmed with apparent shyness.
In a separate chair nearby, Franz sat slouched, sipping champagne and unable to tear his eyes away from Claude.
A peculiar triangle. And at its center — the pink-haired woman.
*Claude.*
To an outside observer, she might look like a poor woman caught between two powerful men. Not a chance. Every bit of it was her doing.
*Succubus Queen.*
A great demon who had descended personally into the human world to sow discord. That was the true identity of that loathsome pink-haired creature.
I had deliberately left Shu behind. Bringing her would have meant Claude seeing through her immediately. Shu might be a Great Spirit, but her opponent was the Succubus Queen — also a great demon. There was no way she wouldn't recognize Shu.
Shu had agreed without complaint, saying she'd stay in the room and read her novel.
Anyway. That woman.
On the surface — all innocence, all fragility, every kind of pretense imaginable. But underneath, there was nothing but a creature of lust, through and through.
Ugh.
Come to think of it, she and Joi (Henri) were rather alike. Pink hair, beautiful face, utterly different inside and out.
Regardless, there was no need to pick a fight with her right now. Crossing a woman who had the affections of both the Crown Prince and the eldest son of a ducal house would only end badly for me. And even if I did nothing, Taibeon would handle it himself eventually. Good luck to him.
Taibeon and Claude becoming properly entangled was a matter for the future. To draw in Taibeon — who was beginning to attract public attention — Claude would approach him.
Information that first-run players would have no way of knowing.
If you saw a new heroine and eagerly took the bait, you'd find yourself getting pummeled from both sides by the Crown Prince and Franz simultaneously.
In any case, watching my sister's official fiancé openly cavorting with what amounted to a courtesan left a foul taste in my mouth.
*Ah, right — in the original, my sister came to these things alone.*
In the original story, Ofilienne would have attended a banquet like this by herself. But because I was here, she had a partner.
This too was a change in the timeline brought about by my presence.
At a banquet, a partner didn't have to be a fiancé or spouse — family was perfectly acceptable.
My sister moved through the room, laughing and chatting with the other nobles.
She wasn't wearing the cold, unsettling expression she usually had around me. She smiled brightly, warmly, as she engaged with people.
That was a mask.
A mask she wore to conceal herself from others.
*…Could she at least let go of my arm?*
My sister never once loosened her grip. Wherever she went, she dragged me along like a beloved stuffed toy.
"Heh heh. What an honor to meet you, Lady Ofilienne."
A portly man approached and bowed in greeting. People approaching my sister wasn't unusual — she was a prominent noble of considerable renown. The problem was who this particular person was.
A face slick with grease. A belly straining at its seams.
"I go by Chechilron — I run a modest little business."
The unscrupulous employer who had been sponsoring Emily with nothing but ill intentions.