With the midterm evaluations finally behind him, Matyos slept in until well past noon for the first time in ages.
Sleep really was the best medicine.
He felt light enough to float away.
He threw together a simple meal, pulled on a coat, and headed outside.
The café terrace.
The Pilrn siblings, Joi, and Emily were gathered around a round table.
"Honestly, this is exactly why your grades look like this — all you do is sleep. Karma, I tell you. Pure karma."
The freckle-faced girl waved Taibeon's report card in the air. She was his childhood friend, someone who'd grown up playing alongside him. Their families had parted ways when her parents moved for business, but fate had reunited them at the academy.
Emily was giving Taibeon a hard time.
"Oh, come on, don't be so mean~ Taibeon did his best."
"Sister, if he'd actually done his best, these grades wouldn't exist."
"W-well, that's... true..."
Tiana, sunk without a fight.
Taibeon, who'd been sulking, suddenly perked up and fired back.
"Oh yeah? And how did YOU do...!?"
"Heh."
"You didn't do well either. I can tell — you're just smiling without saying anything...!"
"Here, take a look."
Emily slapped her report card down on the table with a flourish.
"A-all top marks...!"
"Get a good look. That's a grade you'll never see on your own report card!"
"Ugh..."
Taibeon, sunk without a fight.
"Sister, show us yours too."
"Huh? M-me...?"
Tiana pointed at herself with a shy finger.
"Yes. You said you would."
"R-right. I did say that."
Tiana Pilrn produced her report card with all the confidence of someone surrendering. Emily studied it with a stern expression, then sighed.
"Sister."
"Mm...?"
"How does someone get a grade five in Theology?"
"Ahaha... I know, right?"
"Is a saint really allowed to score like this?"
"Well, but... I don't think I was wrong."
"Pardon?"
"There's no reason to reject everything labeled heresy. I wrote what I believed... and got every answer marked wrong."
"...Even so, that doesn't make it the right answer. It's still wrong."
"It's the right answer to me."
"Sister, honestly — how are you going to get through life being this naive?"
Emily shook her head slowly.
That was when she spotted him.
"Oh, you're here. Matyos."
"You're all here already."
"Looking at your hair, I'd say you just woke up — am I right?"
"Can you really tell?"
"Very clearly, yes."
Tiana reached over and gently patted down his hair.
"L-let me fix that. Hold still?"
Her hands worked at the stray tufts with clumsy but earnest care.
"Matyos. How did your exams go?"
"Decent enough, I think?"
"Oh ho — so that means well?"
"Pretty much."
He pulled out his report card. Swapping grades the day after exams — that was just the done thing among friends.
Emily's eyes went wide when she saw it.
"...All top marks? Is this real?"
"Why would it be fake? I actually put in the work, you know."
"I suppose that's what it means to come from a distinguished family... Your sister's incredibly smart too."
"She's in a different league entirely."
Not quite top of the class, but comfortably within the top ten overall. His adoptive father Servan seemed reasonably pleased, judging by the letter that had arrived yesterday.
— You were capable of this all along. Why didn't you apply yourself sooner? Keep it up. Maintain these marks through the end of term and I'll grant you a barony.
Generous man.
Promising land in exchange for good grades.
'Sister already has two countships to her name.'
Both territories belonged to Ofilienne — the Beringen Countship and the Gatrin Countship. Which was why her official title at formal functions was 'Countess of Beringen.'
'I'd rather have cash than land, personally.'
The dream of being a wealthy man of leisure was proceeding on schedule.
He'd hired the Noim Mercenary Band and invested most of what remained in stocks that were about to surge. Within the next year, they'd spike by roughly two hundred percent.
By the time he graduated, he'd have enough to never work a day in his life.
"Now that exams are over, want to go out somewhere together?"
Tiana floated the idea.
"We've been doing nothing but studying. A little outing — what do you think?"
"I'm in! Emily, are you free?"
"Ah... I want to, I really do... I'm sorry. I don't think I can. I'm sorry, Sister."
Emily avoided the Pilrn siblings' eyes as she spoke.
"For about the next week or so... I have something going on."
"Are you working a part-time job?"
"Nothing like that. The patron who sponsors me invited me to his villa for a few days."
Emily's expression as she said it was not a happy one.
Porca Academy demanded enormous tuition fees. The Pilrn siblings had letters of recommendation, so their situation was different — but Emily's circumstances made it difficult. A businessman had taken her under his wing as a sponsor, which was how she'd been able to attend at all.
'So it's about time for that episode.'
The truth was, the man sponsoring Emily was a piece of filth who ran illegal loan-sharking and human trafficking operations.
Emily's parents had gone to the city on business and been killed by the ringleader. He'd taken Emily in with the intention of making her his.
A few days from now, Emily would find herself on the verge of being violated by him. And it was the protagonist — Taibeon — whose fate it was to save her.
'Good luck with that, Taibeon.'
By the time the midterms wrapped up, Taibeon had probably already sensed something was off.
"..."
Looking at his face — yeah, he knew.
"Then let's plan something for later! Once Emily's done with her thing — how does that sound?"
"...Yes. That sounds lovely."
Emily smiled, but her eyes didn't.
* * *
He spent one day lazing about, then threw himself back into hard training the next.
Even after all the commotion had settled, Professor Vilhelmine continued to personally oversee his swordsmanship. He didn't decline. Opportunities like this didn't come along often.
[Basic Free Swordsmanship has been reclassified as 'Drachen Swordsmanship']
'Hm?'
The Status Window chimed while he was receiving instruction from her. When he checked, his Basic Free Swordsmanship had been renamed to Drachen Swordsmanship.
Drachen Swordsmanship?
[Drachen Swordsmanship]
[A swordsmanship style founded by the Grand Duke of Drachenstein. Vilhelmine later inherited both the title and the style, refining it to completion. It possesses the ferocity and precision of a dragon's claws and fangs.]
'I actually got this?'
The game had many swordsmanship styles. Broken down by tier, there were broadly three: Tier 1, Tier 2, and Tier 3.
Tier 3 was the throwaway stuff — learned briefly at the start before being discarded. Tier 2 was serviceable; the style most beginners ended up with. And then Tier 1 — the pinnacle styles, obtainable only through obscure routes that only the most dedicated players ever discovered.
Drachen Swordsmanship was a Tier 1 style. You had to build Professor Vilhelmine's affection to a certain threshold before she'd pass it on. Even if you rushed it, the earliest possible point was sometime in the second semester...
'...We haven't even finished the first semester yet?'
And what had he even done to earn it? He couldn't think of anything in particular.
'Wait — does that mean what I've been learning all this time was already Drachen Swordsmanship?'
He couldn't work it out just by thinking.
Just then, Professor Vilhelmine wiped the sweat from her face with a towel and straightened up.
"Lunchtime."
"Ah, so it is."
"Shall we eat together?"
"Lunch?"
"I have something to discuss with you as well. If you'd rather not, I'll eat alone."
How was anyone supposed to say no to that?
"No, please. Let's eat together."
"Then let's go."
Professor Vilhelmine draped her black cloak over her shoulders and set off. They made their way to the dining hall.
The dining hall was divided into two sections: the first floor, reserved for students, and the second floor, reserved for professors and teaching assistants. Matyos followed Professor Vilhelmine up to the second floor.
Beep.
Professor Vilhelmine held out the ring issued to faculty and pressed it to the door. It slid open on its own.
"Is it all right for me to come in?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
He was neither a professor nor a teaching assistant, but Professor Vilhelmine simply shrugged.
'Hmm... this feels like...'
Something.
Something was off.
A strong feeling told him he shouldn't linger here.
The second-floor dining hall was a buffet. Lobster, beef, salmon — an array of fine dishes laid out before him. He took only what he could eat.
"Aren't you eating rather little?"
"I've always had a small appetite."
"You need to eat more if you want to grow taller."
"...I don't need to grow taller? I'm perfectly fine with my height, thank you."
He was still at 160 centimeters, but he was satisfied. Genuinely.
Professor Vilhelmine studied him for a moment, then said simply:
"I see. My apologies."
"You don't need to apologize. I'll go find a seat."
Professor Vilhelmine was still piling food onto her tray, so he went ahead without her. It had absolutely nothing to do with being sulky.
"Heh heh, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. Matyos."
A tray appeared across from him.
"...Professor Kennedy?"
"That's right. Professor Kennedy."
He chuckled and picked up a lobster leg.
"Have you been keeping busy?"
"...Ah, a little?"
"Busy enough that you couldn't find time to meet with me, it seems."
Slurp.
The professor stared at him while sucking the meat from the lobster leg. A chill ran down his spine.
"Ha ha... Yes. That, yes. That's how it ended up."
"Your exam performance, Matyos — it was impressive. That remarkable combat instinct, the calm situational judgment, the rapid casting. I owe you an apology, Matyos."
"For what...?"
"I was misjudging your potential. I'm sorry."
"No, there's really no need to apologize..."
"Which brings me to something."
He set down the stripped lobster leg, laced his fingers together, and fixed his gaze on Matyos.
"How would you feel about becoming my teaching assistant—"
Thud!
Another tray landed in the seat beside him, cutting Professor Kennedy off mid-sentence.
"...Professor Zil."
"Good morning, Professor Kennedy."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt a conversation between myself and my assistant."
"Your assistant? Matyos?"
Professor Zil was a middle-aged man distinguished by an impressive mustache. He stroked it thoughtfully and settled into the seat beside Matyos.
Thank goodness. Professor Zil.
Please, say something.
"I'm not sure what you may have heard, but Matyos will be becoming my teaching assistant."
"?"
Undeterred by Matyos's bewildered expression, Professor Zil continued with complete confidence.
"He showed talent even in ordinary circumstances, but this exam made it unmistakable. Matyos, you were born with the makings of a commander of armies."
"...Is that so?"
"My eye does not err."
"Heh heh."
Professor Kennedy laughed, low and unsettling.
"What a thing to say. Professor Zil, that was nothing more than a war game. It's far too early to judge a commander's aptitude from something like that."
"That can be cultivated in time. I don't believe that's any of Professor Kennedy's concern."
"This man is saying the most peculiar things."
"I heard everything. Apparently you made no secret of your disappointment in Matyos's potential on the very first day?"
"Heh heh. That was then, my friend. How can a person remain trapped in the past? People are beings who change — past and present alike."
The air between them took on a peculiar edge.
Two professors bickering back and forth. Matyos was wedged between them, unable to eat a proper bite.
'What is wrong with these people...'
A teaching assistant.
A slave, more like.
That was absolutely not happening.
He wanted to leave, but couldn't find the nerve. He'd have to wait for the right moment and make a break for it.
Just then.
"What are you two doing?"
Professor Vilhelmine approached with a tray stacked to an alarming height. She had no idea what was going on, and her red eyes were wide and round.
Well, of course she was late — she'd loaded that much food onto her tray.
"Ah, nothing of consequence. Professor Vilhelmine. Just a brief exchange with Professor Zil."
"Quite right. Professor Kennedy keeps trying to steal my teaching assistant, Matyos, which has been rather trying."
"Oh, come now, you keep saying the most outlandish things. What are you talking about? Matyos's major is magic, for goodness' sake. Why on earth would he become an assistant to a tactics professor?"
"Majors can be changed."
"This man, honestly."
Matyos looked up at Professor Vilhelmine with an expression that was practically a distress signal. She glanced at him, then shifted her gaze to the two professors.
Professor Vilhelmine gave a small start, then raised her voice at them both.
"A-ahem! Both of you — this is a pointless argument."
Yes, exactly. Please.
Just quietly step away and let this be over.
The two men stopped their squabbling and turned to look at Professor Vilhelmine.
"Professor Vilhelmine."
"Pointless? What do you mean by that?"
Professor Vilhelmine placed a hand on Matyos's shoulder and spoke.
"Matyos is my teaching assistant."
Professor?