Damn, I still couldn't sleep peacefully again.
I woke up the next morning with a dull headache pounding behind my eyes and my muscles aching in that particular way that told me my body remembered things my mind would rather forget. Every joint complained as I peeled myself out from under the blanket, and for a moment I simply sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the room to stop swimming.
As I dragged myself through my usual morning routine, half-dressed and only half-awake, a voice drifted up from downstairs.
A knight had come to our door to return the money and documents my father had prepared for my admission, offering a stiff, formal apology along with them.
Heh. So maybe these body aches actually paid off.
No, no — I was joking. These aches had nothing to do with that particular noble's downfall.
It was all that white fox's fault.
So many things had happened in just the past two days that my "everyday life" — the boring, uneventful one I had actually wanted — finally felt like it was creeping back within reach.
"Ah, you're awake. Good morning," Mom said, her voice carrying that peaceful, quiet warmth of hers as I came down the stairs, the smell of breakfast already filling the small house.
"Good morning, Mom. Dad," I said, taking my seat at the table.
My father's name was Tadayoshi Kurogane. My mother's was Shizuka Kurogane.
"Good morning, my son," Dad said in his usual easy tone, though there was something looser about his shoulders today, as if some invisible weight he'd been carrying had finally lifted.
The three of us settled in for breakfast, steam curling up from the bowls between us.
"Today is your result day. Eat well," Mom said, setting a plate in front of me with a small, satisfied nod.
"What connection is there between the result and his strength?" Dad said, chuckling.
"Arara, I think you do not want to eat dinner today," Mom replied, still smiling.
Except her eyes were saying something entirely different.
"Just joking. Eating well is important, hmm—" Dad started, and his laughter died the instant he caught sight of Mom's expression.
What an ideal morning.
I finished eating, gathered my things, and got ready to head to the academy to check my result.
As I stepped out the door—
"Katsuhito… itterasshai," Mom and Dad said together, their voices overlapping in a way that only came from years of practice.
What a feeling of security.
"Ittekimasu," I said, and walked out toward the academy, the morning air still cool against my face.
By the time I reached the school and made my way toward the results board, Shirohana was already there, greeting me as though absolutely nothing had happened between us.
"Ara… Katsuhito, you're here," she said, her smile as gentle and unreadable as ever.
She's acting like nothing happened?
This woman…
For some reason, it felt like I was the one dancing exactly to the tune she'd already composed.
"Should I reveal your result, or would you prefer being surprised by yourself?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice as she leaned in just a fraction too close, close enough that I caught the faint, clean scent of her hair.
"I'll see it for myself. By the way, what was yours?" I said, keeping my voice level, my expression carefully composed.
No, really — I had no idea whether I should bring up yesterday at all.
Her confidence made it clear she already knew exactly what she'd do the moment I did.
And it would not be in my favor.
"See it yourself," she said, and before I could protest, she'd taken my hand and was pulling me forward.
The board area was crowded, dozens of students packed shoulder to shoulder, craning their necks to find their names. Some let out cheers. Others stood frozen, staring at their scores with quiet devastation. A separate list nearby carried the names of students rejected by the academy "for reasons" — a phrase vague enough to mean everything and nothing.
Draeven's name was among them, alongside several other nobles.
I lifted my eyes to search for my own name, and there it was, at the very top.
RANK 1: Katsuhito Kurogane & Shirohana Yukimori — SCORE: 99
Beneath it, a small handwritten notice had been pinned:
Katsuhito Kurogane & Shirohana Yukimori, meet the principal at her office.
How did she score the same as me?
I had deliberately left one question unanswered.
Was this a coincidence?
Knowing everything I knew about her so far, that seemed unlikely.
Tch.
If only I could know more about her.
Caught up in that thought, I realized I'd been staring at her the entire time without noticing. She leaned forward slightly, a faint blush warming her cheeks.
"I don't mind being stared at if it's you, but it's embarrassing, you know," she said, lowering her lashes just enough to make the words land.
"Ah, sorry…" I muttered, looking away.
It's strange.
She isn't my family, nor do I consciously trust her.
And yet she keeps slipping past my guard anyway.
"By the way, you go ahead. I have something to take care of, so I'll join you later," she said, her smile small and pleasant.
Though somehow, it looked more like restrained anger than pleasantness.
She turned and walked off, and I stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the crowd.
How many times do I have to tell them not to disturb my time with Katsuhito?
I need to teach them their place.
As I watched her go, raised voices caught my attention from a few paces away.
"It's my work — you copied me!" a noble boy about my age snapped, his glasses slightly askew, his voice cracking with frustration.
"You have no proof. I, however, have a witness," the other noble replied smoothly, an easy, confident smile on his face.
"I saw him make it with my own eyes," chimed in a third boy — clearly the second noble's servant, judging by his stiff, deferential posture.
Yeah. This is exactly that kind of dispute — where the witness has no real proof either, but because one side has a witness at all, that side automatically wins the crowd.
It's less about truth and more about who performs better.
Interesting.
Still, something about the accused boy's appearance — his ink-stained fingers, the dark circles under his eyes — told a different story than the accusation. And fortunately, I had a far more reliable way of confirming it than guesswork.
I activated my disguise skill, letting my features shift and settle into the face of Instructor Ashrune, who — conveniently — was nowhere in sight, and left a clone of myself standing nearby to hold my place.
"Can you show me that magic chart?" I asked, stepping toward them with an instructor's practiced authority.
"Instructor?!" both boys said at once, their voices rising in unison.
The chart in question was a layered barrier formula, its structure dense and painstakingly precise — clearly built to separate two opposing elements while firing them simultaneously.
I'll admit, I'm impressed.
"Ohh, this is amazing. So, who created it?" I asked, letting genuine curiosity color my tone.
"It's mine," the noble with the witness said quickly, cutting off the boy in glasses before he could speak.
"So it's yours," I said, nodding slowly, and turned to him with an approving smile. "I'm proud to have such a brilliant student here."
The boy with glasses lowered his head, his shoulders sagging with quiet disappointment.
"By the way," I said, folding my hands behind my back and leaning in politely, "can you explain what structure is being used here exactly?"
"Ah… um…" the confident noble stammered, his composure cracking at the edges.
"My servant will explain," he said quickly, shoving the boy behind him forward.
The servant simply stood there, frozen, like a statue that had forgotten its lines.
Hmm. Neither of them seems particularly experienced at stealing someone else's work.
The moment I'd touched the paper, something about it had already felt off — the lines too clean, too consistent, as though copied rather than created. The other paper, the one belonging to the boy in glasses, looked like a proper rough draft: smudged corrections, erased attempts, the visible scars of real thinking.
If he'd copied it, he wouldn't need any of that mess.
Still, even accounting for everything, I put myself at about ninety-five percent certain the boy in glasses was telling the truth. There was always a margin left for some deliberate, more elaborate act.
While I turned the thought over, the boy in glasses spoke up, his voice small and hesitant.
"Um… can I explain it, sir?"
"Yes, please," I said.
He launched into a detailed explanation, and partway through, I found myself genuinely surprised — there were details in the structure I hadn't caught myself the first time I'd looked.
Oh.
Then I think I'll bet on him.
My waiting clone strolled over, easy and casual, and clapped a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder as though they were old friends.
"So you already showed your work to the instructor?" the clone said.
The boy startled at the sudden appearance of a "friend" he'd never met — but he was sharp enough to catch on quickly and play along without missing a beat.
"Yes, but Falkenrath is accusing me of stealing his work," he said, pointing toward the other noble.
That noble's name, I gathered, was Severin Falkenrath.
Severin's composure finally cracked. "It's mine, sir, believe me! I even have a witness!"
"However," I said, my tone cooling, "he also has a witness now. On top of that, he was able to explain everything to me in detail, while you could not." I let my gaze settle on him, sharp and unblinking. "I can let you go if you admit it. Answer?"
Severin's hands trembled. Then, with a jerky, furious motion, he tore his own paper in half.
"Sorry, sir. I will not do it again," he muttered before turning and walking away, his servant trailing after him in silence.
As he left, the boy with glasses reached up and tapped my back lightly.
"Um… I don't know who you are," he whispered, "but I think you should get out of that disguise now."
How did he know?
Before I could puzzle over it, someone rested their head lightly against my shoulder from behind.
"What are you doing?" a voice whispered.
I turned, and there stood Valerian Ashrune, wearing a smile that was pleasant in shape and absolutely nothing else.
When did he—
I hadn't sensed him approach at all.
Still reeling from that, I heard him continue.
"Well… I'll pretend I didn't see anything," he said with a long-suffering sigh as I quietly removed his hand from my shoulder. "Though you should be aware of this. If I know that you can use my face, then when something happens and I'm not involved — who do you think people will doubt first?"
His expression remained perfectly calm as he said it, which somehow made it worse.
I released the disguise, my features shifting back to my own.
"Well then, I'll take my leave," Ashrune said, already turning away — and then, with a lazy wave, he simply vanished, the space where he'd stood folding shut behind him.
Marcus and I both watched the empty spot where he'd been.
Huh.
He just used teleportation?
I thought that skill was supposed to be lost.
"Um… my name is Marcus Halvard," the boy with glasses said, breaking my train of thought. "You can call me Marcus," he added, shy and faintly flustered.
"Ah, my name is Katsuhito Kurogane. You can call me Katsuhito," I said, offering a small smile.
"Um… um…" he hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of his torn-up paper's rescued twin. "Why did you save me, Katsuhito-san?"
To gain a useful friend.
Ahem. I mean—
"Well… it was just a whim. Also, I'd feel bad if I hadn't done anything," I said, and gestured toward a bench nearby.
"I see…" he murmured, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"By the way," he said, suddenly leaning in with a bright-eyed eagerness, "just now, when you asked me that question — you can read structures too, can't you?"
This kid really flips from shy to no-boundaries in about half a second.
"Yes, to some extent," I said, taking a seat.
I mean, not better than you, I'd guess.
From there, Marcus practically transformed — pulling out sketch after sketch of his creations and experiments, his voice steady and animated, the earlier stammer completely gone. It seemed like this was the one place he could truly be himself, unguarded and sure. As he showed me piece after piece, I offered a few observations, a correction here and there, and we ended up talking so long I completely forgot about the meeting with the principal.
A hand landed on my shoulder from behind, unannounced.
"Ohh, who is this boy?" Shirohana asked, tilting her head to look between us.
"Ah, he's a fellow student and a skilled inventor," I said, and found myself smiling, genuinely, having enjoyed watching Marcus's work more than I'd expected to.
"Ah… nice to meet you. My name is—" Marcus began, straightening up to introduce himself properly.
"Katsuhito, did you forget about the meeting?" Shirohana said, cutting straight over him as if he hadn't spoken at all.
Marcus's face fell, hurt flickering across it at being ignored twice in a row.
Why the cold shoulder toward him, specifically?
"Ah, sorry, I forgot," I said, already rising to my feet. "Sorry, Marcus. I have to go. We'll talk again."
"Yes, for sure," Marcus said, brightening despite himself. "Can I get your contact skill number?"
I was reaching to give it to him when Shirohana took hold of my collar and simply dragged me away.
"We'll be late," she said sweetly, though shadows had crept across her expression that didn't match the smile at all.
Ah, this face looks familiar. Just like Mom's.
"Marcus, my class number is 1! Let's meet again!" I called over my shoulder as I was hauled off.
"Yes, for sure!" Marcus shouted back, waving both hands enthusiastically.
As we walked toward the principal's office, Shirohana suddenly pulled me closer, pressed two fingers to my forehead, and tapped it once.
I hadn't expected the motion at all.
"Now the first number you have is mine," she said, a faint, satisfied edge of mischief in her smile. "Ah, I've also saved your number in first place," she added, showing me her contact list — otherwise entirely empty save for the entry she'd just created.
I could have reacted to that.
But I didn't.
Why did I let my guard down?
I studied her contact status as we walked.
Ah, wait. She had no one else saved at all — which means she's been relying on a signal contact device this whole time?
Signal contact devices were relics by this point — ancient, clumsy things that couldn't even store a proper contact list. Worse, each one required keeping a matched half of a paired device, and the thing could only be used exactly once before it burned out.
And these days, the price of a paired device alone is outrageous.
Still — it's strange.
Even assuming she had access to real wealth, it seemed almost impossible she could have gotten by this long relying on nothing but that. Manufacturers who still produced them were nearly extinct.
Lost in that thread of thought, I barely noticed us arriving at the principal's office door.
Ah, wait — shouldn't I be more concerned about the fact that she just registered her contact without even asking me first?
I thought, snapping back to the present just as the door came into view.
I raised my hand to knock — and before my knuckles could land, Shirohana had already pushed the door open without waiting for permission.
I was left standing mid-motion, hand still frozen in the air, and yet somehow found the shamelessness to ask anyway.
"Can we come in?"
The principal stood behind her desk, facing the window with her posture straight and severe, hands clasped neatly behind her back. At the sound of our voices, she turned.
"Ah, come in," she said.
So she really doesn't mind the door being opened without permission.
Shirohana stepped inside with effortless grace, not bothering with so much as a greeting. I followed, offering the principal a proper bow, which she returned with a small nod before I moved to take a seat.
The principal settled into her own chair across from us.
"Oh, so you two are the ones who took the top rank on the entrance exam," she said, her voice deep, measured, unmistakably mature.
I could feel her mana even from here — roughly on par with Valerian Ashrune's, if not slightly above it.
"Yes, Principal. It's our honor to meet the principal of this academy," Shirohana and I said together, near-perfect unison.
A nameplate on her desk read
Vivienne Arkwright
. The office around her was elegant despite the clutter — gilded lamps, richly detailed wall panels, and towers of papers and books stacked in careful disarray, as if organized chaos was simply how she worked.
"First, congratulations on passing the entrance exam and taking rank one," Vivienne said, her smile polite and composed. She rested her elbows on the desk, chin propped against laced fingers.
Then, in an instant, her expression sharpened into something far more serious.
"Well then, let's get to the point," she said, eyes moving between the two of us.
So it's not just a congratulations meeting after all.
"You both faked your powers during the practical exam, didn't you?" she said, narrowing her eyes.
Oh.
So she knows.
The more pressing question is where she got that information.
I hadn't sensed her mana anywhere near us at the time. Had she used some hidden means to conceal her presence the same way we had? Or had someone simply told her?
And if someone did — who?
The most obvious candidate was Valerian Ashrune. He'd been there, and he'd just demonstrated concealment sharp enough that I hadn't been able to detect him at all.
Both Shirohana and I froze in place, though she recovered her composure far faster than I did.
It seems even she hadn't known about this in advance.
"Hahaha, don't worry. It's not like I'm going to do anything bad," Vivienne said, laughing and shattering the tension in an instant.
She's confusing me on purpose now.
As her laughter settled, she continued. "Though it seems the two of you are the strongest on these academy grounds, in terms of raw strength."
She paused, then said, "Acknowledging your strength, I have a request…"
Another beat of silence. Then she corrected herself.
"No. An order, for you two."
"Become the guardians of this school."
I blinked, my expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
She let out a long breath and leaned back in her chair.
"In short — student council president and vice-president. You'll work directly under me, with second authority after mine," she said. "How about it?"
She settled against the backrest and waited, unhurried, as though she had all the time in the world.
Student council.
The term wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but I'd never once heard it mentioned in connection with this academy before.
And more importantly — what happens if I refuse her?
I glanced sideways at Shirohana. She was staring directly into Vivienne's eyes, an unmistakable current of bloodlust simmering beneath her calm expression, the lower half of her face hidden behind her folding fan.
This offer is too sudden. Too convenient — especially given my status as a commoner.
"Isn't this a little too good of an offer?" I asked, leaning back and keeping my tone level, projecting a confidence I only half-felt.
Vivienne raised an eyebrow, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again.
"So you know your stuff," she said, studying me. "Though it's nothing shady. If anything, I want to get rid of the shady parts."
She leaned back further. "And the problem is, I can't do that myself — not with my position, not with my public face. I need someone capable of working from the shadows."
"Though still," I said, "it sounds a little too cost-free, doesn't it?"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"It isn't free. The price will be your fame and your power — sacrificed, if you're ever caught," she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied our reactions.
Well. Yes. That does sound like a reasonable cost.
Assuming plenty of smaller, hidden costs branch out from a decision like this too.
Though the real question now is trust.
Wait.
The deal isn't bad, and if I built in a back door—
No. If that were ever discovered, the trust would collapse — and for an operation like this, trust is everything.
Trust.
On what basis could I even trust her?
Do I even want to work under the "justice" she's describing?
In my past life, I'd worked for people who spoke in exactly these terms — ideals dressed up as righteousness — only to watch, over time, as compromise after compromise blurred the line until nothing remained but the appearance of a cause, propped up to protect someone's position.
But well.
Justice or not, this still hands me a ladder toward the future.
"On what basis can we trust you?" I asked. "Also — how can you say that, based purely on our power, we're on the 'good' side you're describing?"
Let's decide based on her answer.
I kept my expression steady, though privately I had no idea what else she might be holding in reserve.
She smiled faintly.
"Well, for that, I don't have anything that could truly make you trust me," she said, walking to a section of the wall and releasing a lock nearly invisible against the paneling. "Though I can give you this."
She retrieved a set of property and status papers and laid them on the desk in front of us.
"It carries my personal seal. You're free to verify its integrity," she said. "If you decide I'm going to betray the two of you, then simply submit it. I don't have anything more than this to offer as proof."
She returned to her seat.
I picked the papers up and examined them carefully.
They're genuine.
Still…
"Why are you going this far?" I asked, setting them back down.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, her expression had turned somber, almost raw.
"My friend was killed here — because of all this political and status mess. Part of it is my own guilt, for not being able to do anything," she said, her voice low and pained. "Do I need any more reason than that to cut the roots of this evil out?"
So that's her definition of evil.
Not that I have any personal stake in it — but I think I'll bet on this.
It's not as though I've never dealt with clients like this before.
And if I secured a record as a member of the student council, it would open plenty of doors for the future.
"Well then, it would be rude of me to refuse after coming this far," I said, letting a pleasant, agreeable smile settle onto my face. "I agree."
Just as I reached for the pen to sign, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. Shirohana had loosened her mana chain — enough to press down on both Ashrune's earlier presence and Vivienne directly. Her eyes began to glow faintly in the low light.
"I can kill you two right now, instantly, and no one would ever know," she said, still seated, perfectly calm, her expression more delighted by the threat of violence than troubled by it.
Then, just as suddenly, she eased the pressure back and let it fade.
"Though — since Katsuhito agreed, I will too. But don't think for even a second you'll walk away safely if you try anything funny," she said, holding Vivienne's gaze without blinking.
Vivienne answered by releasing her own mana chain to match. Even though Shirohana clearly hadn't unleashed hers fully, Vivienne's pressure — seemingly at its absolute limit — barely managed to meet it evenly.
"I'll keep that in mind," Vivienne said, and the two of them held each other's stare for a long moment.
Then Shirohana signed. I signed after her.
Once the documents had been exchanged, Vivienne extended her hand across the desk. Shirohana and I both took it in turn.
"We are comrades from now on," Vivienne said, a genuinely pleased smile crossing her face, as though something long-sought had finally clicked into place.
We settled back into our chairs, while Ashrune — who I hadn't even noticed slip back in — lounged across the sofa. No, "sat" would be generous. He was fully lying down.
"Now it's late, so we'll discuss the rest tomorrow," Vivienne said. "Give me your contact skill numbers."
We exchanged them through our contact cards, approving each request in turn.
"Well then, I'll contact you tomorrow," Vivienne said once the exchange was complete.
Shirohana and I rose, offering our farewells before stepping out.
We walked in silence the rest of the way through the academy grounds, though Shirohana kept herself noticeably closer to my side than she had before. When we reached the deserted front gate, she moved a step ahead of me and stopped, turning back.
Moonlight caught in her hair and along the pale line of her tail, silvering both. Her eyes reflected the glow of the night sky, luminous and unreadable.
"Well then, Katsuhito. See you tomorrow," she said, offering a small, graceful bow, her hair and lashes shimmering faintly in the light.
Then, without warning, she dissolved into thin air, leaving a scatter of glowing white petals drifting down beneath the moon before they, too, faded into nothing.
I could only stand there, staring at the space where she'd been.
After a long moment, I finally snapped back to myself.
Ah, this is bad.
I started the walk home, my mind still turning over everything that had happened.
When I reached the house and opened the door, Mom was already standing there, wearing her particular brand of scary smile.
"Ara, what were you doing so late at night without contact?" she asked.
I looked at her.
Ah… I forgot.
She proceeded to lecture me thoroughly through the entirety of dinner.
It was wonderful. I guess.
After finishing my meal and somehow escaping to my room, I collapsed onto my bed and let the events of the day replay in my head.
That's when I remembered Shirohana's contact and pulled up my list.
My eyes went wide.
She had connected her telepathy directly to me — on top of adding her own contact to my card.
But how did she know I even had a skill like telepathy?
It was another one of my abilities — one I'd thought long lost.
…
Damn, I'm tired. Let's just sleep for now.
The throne room stood in absolute silence.
Rows of towering white pillars stretched upward toward a ceiling so high it vanished into darkness. Moonlight poured through enormous stained-glass windows, spilling pale silver light across the polished marble floor.
Upon the throne sat a woman in regal attire, her posture immaculate, her hands folded in her lap.
Her eyes remained closed.
Yet she was watching.
Not the throne room.
Not the kingdom.
But the life of a single boy — every moment of it, from the instant he had first drawn breath.
A faint smile curved across her lips.
"Hmmm… well. He hasn't yet gotten a glimpse of what lies ahead."
Below the dais, a woman clad in the polished armor of the Royal Knights knelt with her head bowed, one fist pressed to the marble floor in formal respect.
"…Your Majesty."
The commander of the Queen's personal guard lifted her head just enough to speak.
"You have been watching the King since the day he was born."
"Why have we not acted since then?"
The Queen remained silent for several long seconds before answering, her expression unreadable.
"I need him to see more."
Something in her face softened, just barely.
"Your KING…"
"…will sit on this throne with me."
I…
…felt a little dizzy.
I slowly opened my eyes.
Sunlight was already pouring through the window, warm and unmistakably late.
…
Wait.
The sun?
I shot upright so fast the blanket slid off the bed entirely.
"…What?"
My eyes snapped to the clock on the wall.
"…I'm late."
No.
Way past late.
The meeting was already over. It was nearly time for the entrance ceremony.
"…Damn."
How did this happen?
Wait…
I'll think about that later.
I don't have time.
I threw on my uniform, grabbed my bag, and bolted out of my room. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted up from the dining room below, and without breaking stride, I snatched a piece straight off the table on my way past.
Mother stared at me, utterly bewildered.
"Why did you wake up late on the entrance ceremony day of all days?" She crossed her arms. "…Or should I start waking you up from now on?"
"I don't have time to explain," I said around a mouthful of bread, already shoving my feet into my shoes. "And I'll wake up on my own."
"Ittekimasu."
Mother followed me as far as the doorway, calling after me. "Itterasshai."
The moment I reached the end of the street, I whispered under my breath.
"
Terepōto.
"
My body vanished on the spot.
"…Someone was just there."
A customer standing beside a shopkeeper stared blankly at the now-empty road.
"W-What…?"
Another passerby rubbed his eyes, certain he'd imagined it.
Behind a shop near the academy, the air distorted for the briefest instant. I reappeared without a sound.
"Boo."
A voice whispered directly against my ear.
"WOAH—!"
I actually jumped — a full, undignified flinch.
This time…
She really got me.
Shirohana burst into laughter, one hand pressed to her mouth, her shoulders shaking.
"Ahhh, this one was genuine from you." She looked unusually pleased with herself.
Without thinking, I blurted out, "How did you know?"
She simply turned, pressed one finger to her lips, and smiled.
"Secret."
She glanced back at me over her shoulder, eyes glinting. "…Or you can try guessing."
Again.
She dodged the question.
"Well…" she said, already reaching out to grab my wrist, "I think we should hurry now, President."
She pulled me forward, toward the academy, as casually as if this were the most ordinary morning routine in the world.
…
President?
What does—
Before I could finish the thought, we'd already arrived at the ceremony hall.
The enormous hall was packed wall to wall. Hundreds of new students stood in perfectly ordered rows beneath the high, vaulted ceiling, the atmosphere carrying a tension so precise it felt almost military.
Shirohana and I slipped quietly into our places just as the last stragglers found theirs.
As everyone waited, my thoughts drifted back to the morning.
Something feels…
Off.
An uncomfortable prickle lingered at the back of my mind — the kind that came right before something unpredictable happened.
But what?
…
Terrorism?
…
Nah.
Haaa…
What am I even thinking. Think of something realistic.
Someone revealing my identity?
…
Unlikely.
Those three probably wouldn't.
Still…
Possible.
Especially the Principal.
Or Instructor Ashrune.
Then there were the two things that bothered me most.
Why did I oversleep?
And — how did Shirohana know exactly where I would teleport to?
…
Could those two things be connected?
Did she somehow make me wake up late?
If so… why?
And more importantly — how?
Before I could chase the thought any further, the hall plunged into darkness. Every light extinguished at once, leaving only the stage illuminated in a stark, isolated glow.
…
No microphone?
Then a tremendous wave of mana swept across the hall — not enough to harm anyone, but carrying an authority so overwhelming that every conversation died instantly.
The entire room fell silent.
Measured footsteps echoed across the stage. Principal Vivienne Arkwright stepped into the spotlight, stopping dead center, hands folded neatly behind her back, posture flawless — like a commander reviewing her troops.
"First, congratulations to all students for passing the entrance examination."
"Welcome…"
"…to Daimadō Mahō Gakuen."
Her voice, deep and dignified, resonated across the hall through some amplification woven into the mana around her. She paused, letting the silence stretch.
"Now then."
"I don't think I need to explain the purpose of this academy."
"So I'll say it plainly."
Her gaze swept slowly across every row of students.
"You all are weak."
Silence.
Not a single student dared to speak.
She let the words settle before continuing.
"What did you all just think?"
"Did you think you are strong?"
"Did you take my words as simple motivation?"
"Did you doubt your own abilities?"
"Or did you doubt my judgment?"
Another pause.
"Whatever your answer may be…"
"…those are merely thoughts."
"Not facts."
She folded her arms behind her back once more.
"So it is up to you whether you make my words reality…"
"…or leave them as nothing more than my opinion."
"That is all."
The hall remained frozen in silence. Then she spoke again.
"Now…"
"I have an announcement to make."
Her eyes shifted, landing squarely on our row.
…
Huh?
Why is she looking over here?
"Katsuhito Kurogane."
"Shirohana Yukimori."
She called our names.
The instant Principal Vivienne spoke our names, Shirohana gently took my hand.
This time, she wasn't dragging me. She walked with an unhurried, graceful elegance, matching the poise of a noble lady being escorted into a royal banquet hall. To anyone watching, it simply looked as though we were walking hand in hand toward the stage as a matter of course.
…
Hah.
I really thought I'd graduate without attracting too much attention.
Why…
Just why?
As we stepped onto the stage, I lifted my gaze and found an ocean of faces stretching out before me, every single one turned in our direction.
…
Ah.
I forgot.
I…
…don't know how to give a speech in front of an audience.
More pressingly — why was I even standing up here in the first place? No one had told me a single thing. I hadn't prepared so much as a sentence.
Principal Vivienne stepped forward.
"I have established a Student Council that will work to make this academy a more organized and safer place."
She paused briefly.
"I have appointed Katsuhito Kurogane as the Student Council President…"
"…and Shirohana Yukimori as the Vice-President."
…
Huh?
Nobody told me about this.
When—
As the pieces slowly clicked into place, I turned toward Shirohana. She wore an elegant, thoroughly satisfied smile.
I've been set up by this woman.
Why didn't I see this coming?
More importantly — how did she make me sleep that long?
I should have noticed if she'd cast something on me directly. Or if she'd slipped into my room while I was asleep.
So then — when?
I replayed everything from the day before. After we'd left the principal's office, she'd gone unusually quiet.
…
No way.
After we parted, I kept thinking about her, for some reason.
…
Was I already under her influence, even then?
But from when? How?
Damn.
I let my guard down.
Whispers immediately spread through the audience like ripples across still water.
"Why a commoner?"
"Huh — as expected from the one who defeated me and took first place."
"Is he even capable?"
"Lady Yukimori became the vice-president?"
"I want to fight him someday."
"Aren't Kurogane-kun and Yukimori-san always together?"
"That commoner is getting ahead of himself."
"This is getting interesting."
Most of the nobles looked at me with open contempt, their disdain rooted entirely in my status. But not all of them — some watched with genuine curiosity, others with the sharp, appraising look of someone sizing up a future opponent, and a rare few simply seemed intrigued.
"Katsuhito Kurogane," Principal Vivienne called, holding out a slender ceremonial staff.
"A few words."
So she did have a microphone after all.
The object resembled a short staff, its surface etched with intricate magic circuits designed to amplify a speaker's voice in proportion to their mana output.
What exactly are you expecting me to say after throwing me up here like this?
Every eye in the hall was fixed on me — hundreds of students, all waiting on someone who didn't even know why he'd been dragged onto this stage in the first place.
I lifted the staff slowly.
"As you all know, I'm from the Common Class."
"I understand that many of you may doubt me."
"I don't mind being doubted."
"But if you're discriminating against me because of my class…"
"…then I would appreciate it if you learned to use your position in a better way."
"That's all from me."
The hall fell into stunned silence.
I passed the staff to Shirohana.
She stepped forward with flawless composure — graceful, elegant, every motion polished by years of noble training.
"I will fulfill my role as Vice-President…"
"…and support the President."
Her voice stayed calm. Gentle. Almost peaceful.
Then, without warning, she let a portion of her mana spill loose.
The pressure that swept through the hall was heavier than anything Vivienne had released earlier. The atmosphere froze solid. Even the students who'd been whispering moments before fell silent on instinct, their bodies going rigid.
Without so much as breaking her elegant smile, she continued.
"I shall eradicate any problem that arises for the President."
The words came out polite. Gracious, even. And yet the killing intent laced through them was unmistakable — no one in that room mistook it for empty ceremony.
She lowered the staff.
"Well then…"
"That's all from me."
She handed it back to the principal.
No one spoke for several long seconds. The hall remained locked beneath the lingering weight of her mana.
Principal Vivienne accepted the staff calmly.
"With that…"
"…the entrance ceremony is concluded."
The instant she finished, the tension shattered and conversation erupted across the hall all at once — students discussing the ceremony, whispering about me, murmuring about Shirohana, wondering aloud what this new Student Council would actually become.
The very first thing I did once the ceremony ended was head straight for the principal's office, fully intending to have a serious conversation about all of this.
I threw the door open—
Pop!
A party popper exploded in a burst of confetti and streamers.
"Congratulations on becoming Student Council President!"
Shirohana. Principal Vivienne. Instructor Ashrune. All three voices rang out together.
…
Wait.
How is Shirohana already here before me?
I stared at the three of them, still standing in the doorway.
"No—" I started. "Why didn't you discuss this with me before announcing it?"
Principal Vivienne let out a lazy sigh. "Because you didn't show up for the morning meeting."
…
Did I imagine it, or did she just smirk?
"Well, well. Calm down," Ashrune said, tossing a bottle in my direction while sprawled comfortably across the sofa. "Here. Have some juice."
I caught it on reflex. The liquid inside really was juice — it simply happened to be poured into a bottle shaped exactly like something far stronger.
…
Seriously?
Ashrune shrugged. "It's transportation magic. I can't chain it together the way you can. Didn't you learn something?"
"Nah. I already know this one."
"Ah… what a troublesome student," he sighed dramatically. "…Too competent."
He probably already knew I'd recognize the spell.
He threw the bottle mostly to knock me off-balance and calm me down.
Principal Vivienne took another bite from the snack tray on the table between them.
"By the way — it was Shirohana's suggestion this morning. She recommended making you Student Council President."
I turned slowly toward Shirohana.
She only smiled back, perfectly calm, as though absolutely nothing unusual had occurred.
"Should I serve some tea?"
Without waiting for a response, she guided me firmly into a chair and set about preparing tea with immaculate, practiced etiquette.
…
Hah.
Somehow it feels like I've completely lost my right to hold an opinion here.
Judging by the sheer volume of snacks already arranged across the table, I strongly suspected this entire "celebration" had actually been organized for the principal's benefit.
…
Why do I feel like I keep losing my edge whenever these three are in the same room?
Meanwhile, somewhere else within the kingdom — in a narrow alley that people rarely dared to enter after dark — a man continued stabbing a corpse.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The body had long since stopped moving. Blood had already pooled beneath it, dark and spreading across the cracked stone. And still, his knife never stopped descending.
"Die… die… die…"
"…Ahh."
"It's so pleasurable to get rid of my anxiety like this."
A smile spread across his face — not one of joy, but of relief, as though every stab eased some crushing weight bearing down on his chest.
Eventually, he stopped, breathing hard. He grabbed the corpse by its collar and hauled it upright against the alley wall.
"You people took away my life…"
"I…"
"…I had no choice."
His voice trembled.
"What do you say I should have done, huh?"
The corpse, naturally, gave no answer.
"You people took everything from me…" he continued, his grip tightening on the fabric. "And now you pretend to be kind while doing the exact same thing."
"Aren't I just a convenient tool for all of you to show off your virtues?"
"You all drove me to this."
"…just so you can preserve your positions…"
"…and show your damn virtues."
He let go. The corpse slumped lifelessly back onto the blood-soaked ground.
Without a backward glance, the man turned and disappeared into the darkness of the alley, as if he'd never been there at all.
The next morning, I was on my way to the academy when something caught my attention.
A young man crouched by the roadside, gently feeding and petting a stray cat, his fingers scratching carefully behind its ears.
…
That's unusual.
Judging by his refined clothing and posture, he had to be a noble of fairly high standing — and yet there wasn't a single carriage waiting anywhere nearby. The cat arched into his palm, purring contentedly.
…
I have to admit. The cat is cute.
"Hm."
"Nya~"
A soft voice whispered right beside my ear.
I turned.
Shirohana.
…
Knew it.
"Did you decide to change your race?" I asked dryly.
She giggled. "Nah. I was just teasing you since you were staring at that cat."
She fell into step beside me as naturally as if walking to school together every morning was simply how things had always been.
"Don't you have a carriage or something, Ojou-sama?" I asked, glancing sideways at her.
She looked at me with an amused glint in her eye. "So… you want to ride with me?"
"Nah— ah… I didn't mean it like that." I cleared my throat. "…Never mind."
She's definitely enjoying this.
"By the way," she said, "my class is 1-A. What about yours?"
"Mine is also 1-A."
She smiled, pleased. "You seem happy we're in the same class."
Like I'd be happy about sharing a classroom with the source of most of my current problems.
Still — it did make it easier to observe her. To piece together her motives.
That alone makes it worthwhile.
We entered Classroom 1-A together. Most of the students were already gathered in small clusters, chatting easily with friends they'd clearly known for years. A few sat quietly reviewing textbooks. Others simply waited in silence, watching the door.
One thing became immediately, painfully obvious.
I was the only Common Class student in the room.
And judging by the looks I was already receiving, I was not exactly welcome.
The last row. Second seat from the window.
It doesn't attract attention. Perfect.
Just as I moved to sit, Shirohana calmly claimed the window seat and gestured for me to take the one beside her.
…
This woman.
For some reason, I found myself sitting down anyway.
"…How did you know I was going to choose this seat?"
"Because," she said, "it's the only seat in this classroom that doesn't stand out."
"Then why did you take the window seat?"
"That's my preference."
…
I sighed. Somehow her answers always sounded perfectly reasonable — without actually explaining a single thing.
A boy walked into the classroom and settled into the seat directly in front of us.
The noble from earlier. The one petting the cat.
Whispers immediately rippled through the room.
"Hey… isn't that him?"
"Yeah. The one who got adopted by a high-ranking noble."
"I heard his real parents—"
"Shh. Don't talk about it."
That doesn't sound like an ordinary adoption.
Some incidents never become public. Others get released in a version that's… convenient.
Though people naturally interpret events however benefits them.
Functional. Shaped for whatever purpose they need it to serve.
The classroom door opened again. Marcus stepped in, glanced around, and brightened the moment he spotted me. He crossed the room and dropped into the seat directly behind mine.
"We meet again," he said, already pulling a sheet of paper from his bag. "I improved it. It's much better for smaller-scale tasks now."
His nervousness from the day before had completely vanished the second the topic turned to magic, his eyes lit with genuine excitement.
I examined the diagram he'd handed me.
A composite elemental formula, designed to clean cloth without leaving it damp afterward.
Interesting.
I wonder — could this principle be adapted for combat?
Before we could dig further into it, the door opened once more. Instructor Valerian Ashrune stepped inside.
"We'll continue later," I told Marcus.
He nodded. "Okay."
"Well then," Ashrune began, dropping himself into the teacher's chair with all the enthusiasm of a man being forced against his will. "As all of you unfortunately — or fortunately — already know, I'm your homeroom teacher. Valerian Ashrune."
He propped his cheek against one hand.
Does he even have the motivation to teach?
"Alright. We'll begin with the basics of magic and skills. I know most of you already understand this, but it's part of the curriculum. So don't roll your eyes." He paused. "…Because I also want to close mine."
A few students chuckled.
Ashrune slowly pushed himself upright.
"Can anyone explain what magic is?"
A noble student's hand shot up immediately, a confident grin already fixed on his face.
"Yes, sir." Ashrune pointed toward him. "Go ahead."
The student rose to his feet.
"Magic exists both within ourselves and throughout the environment. Skills are the methods we use to manipulate that magic. We use our internal mana to control the external mana around us. External mana itself has no known limit. However, the amount of internal mana determines how much external mana one can manipulate, as well as which elemental attributes they can use. The basic elements are Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth. Beyond those are combinations and derivative elements. There are also Special Skills, each requiring individual aptitude before they can be mastered."
He smiled proudly.
"And before anyone asks — I raised my hand first because I used Prediction. I looked about two seconds into the future. Prediction isn't perfectly accurate, but with greater aptitude, both its accuracy and prediction time increase." He sat back down, clearly pleased with himself. "That's all."
Ashrune nodded. "Correct."
He rose and walked to the blackboard, chalk scraping as he wrote:
Why is it the way it is?
Beneath that:
If internal and external mana share the same structure, why can't we manipulate external mana directly?
He set the chalk down.
"I don't have clear answers to either question. I'm still searching for them myself."
Marcus quietly raised his hand.
"Sir."
"Go ahead."
"Isn't there some force preventing us from controlling external mana directly?"
The entire classroom's attention shifted toward him.
Ashrune's mouth curved into a faint smile. "Yes. There is. We call that phenomenon 'Mana Force.' But — that's all we know. It's merely a concept. A placeholder used to explain why direct control isn't possible despite the identical structure. We still don't understand its true nature."
He crossed his arms.
"For now, those questions aren't functionally necessary. So let's focus on what we can understand."
Marcus nodded quietly and sank back into his seat.
Ring.
The bell echoed through the building. Ashrune stretched, joints popping audibly.
"Class is over. Let's move to the training grounds."
The question Marcus had raised lingered in the back of my mind even after class had ended. Perhaps because it wasn't a meaningless question at all.
Even in my previous world, countless explanations had existed that were functionally useful — they told you
how
to do something, but rarely
why
the underlying principle existed in the first place.
This world is no different.
We understand mana. We manipulate mana. Yet no one can clearly explain the foundation it's all built on.
I should gather more information first. There's no point trying to reach a conclusion with incomplete data.
Still turning the thought over, I followed the rest of the class out toward the training grounds.
The practice field opened up before us — a vast expanse of hardened stone tiles ringed with training dummies, weapon racks, and reinforced protective barriers. A gentle breeze swept across the open ground as students filed themselves into neat, practiced rows without a word of instruction.
No one needed to be told.
Maybe the atmosphere alone was enough.
Valerian Ashrune stood at the front, hands tucked lazily into his pockets. Then, with a small sigh, he straightened, his entire posture sharpening in an instant.
"…Alright. Instead of calling attendance, each student will come attack me. You may use any physical technique or trick you want. But — no magic."
A few students looked visibly relieved. Others looked thrilled.
Ashrune raised one hand.
"Student Number One."
The first student sprinted forward without hesitation, sweeping low with a kick. Ashrune hopped lightly over it. The instant the student's hands touched the ground, he twisted his body and launched a second kick upward, aiming for the blind spot while Ashrune was still airborne.
A clever follow-up.
Ashrune simply pressed his foot against the incoming strike, using the leverage to flip backward. The student mirrored the motion, flipping the opposite way and charging in again with a straight punch. Ashrune redirected it with a single hand, and the sheer force of his own momentum threw the student off balance.
Before he could recover —
thud.
Ashrune's kick landed clean, sending him flying back behind the line.
"…Next."
Through the entire exchange, Ashrune never once used his second hand.
Student after student stepped up, and every single one was sent flying behind the line in turn. Throughout it all, Ashrune fought one-handed the entire time.
Normally, Valerian Ashrune looked like a man who wanted nothing more than to sleep forever. But out here, everything about him had changed — his posture, his eyes, the precision of every movement. Not a trace of laziness remained.
"Student Number Nine."
A confident voice rang out immediately.
"Student Number Nine, Reinhardt Elthorn! Here I come!"
Reinhardt exploded forward, slipping beneath Ashrune's guard in an instant and launching an upward kick.
For the first time, Ashrune raised both hands.
Bang!
The impact pushed him back a full step. A faint smile spread across his face.
Interesting.
The two exchanged kicks at blinding speed, each strike canceling the next before it could fully develop. Reinhardt threw a punch — Ashrune lifted an arm to intercept — and mid-swing, Reinhardt yanked the motion back and transformed it into a knee strike instead. Ashrune caught it with his other hand just in time.
The exchange accelerated further. To the ordinary students watching, the fight had already become nearly impossible to follow — not as fast as Shirohana or myself, but fast enough that either of them could likely have held their own against us for a short while.
Both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, though for very different reasons — Ashrune for the thrill of teaching a worthy opponent, Reinhardt for the sheer joy of the fight itself.
Ashrune blocked another knee strike. Reinhardt followed instantly with a kick aimed at his face. Ashrune dropped low, his body spinning into an upward kick toward Reinhardt's chin. Reinhardt blocked it — but Ashrune, without breaking the rotation, carried the momentum straight into a second spinning kick. Unable to adjust in time, Reinhardt took the strike from the side, thrown backward, though he landed cleanly on his feet regardless.
Just as he prepared to charge forward again—
"Student Number Ten."
"…Tch."
Reinhardt glanced around, only then realizing he'd already been forced behind the line. He clicked his tongue in irritation and stepped back into formation.
The remaining students filed through one after another. Most lasted only seconds. A few managed a handful of exchanges. Some landed gracefully after being thrown. Others hit the ground flat on their backs, wide open for a finishing blow that never came.
"Student Number Fourteen."
Marcus stepped forward, and his defeat came almost instantly. Even so, the technique he'd attempted right before losing had genuine promise — with proper timing and a bit more speed, it could become something dangerous.
"Student Number Seventeen."
Shirohana stepped forward without a sound. Ashrune kept one hand tucked behind his back as she approached.
Step. Step. Step.
Ashrune didn't move. The instant she entered range—
Slash.
Her hand cut upward with blinding speed. Ashrune's eyes went wide, and he vanished ten meters back almost instantly, finally pulling his second hand free.
Behind where he'd stood, the reinforced barrier had been sliced clean in half — a single, perfectly vertical line.
Silence swept across the field.
She hadn't even drawn a weapon.
Ashrune's mouth curved into a slow smile. This time, he attacked first, rushing forward with his fists blurring through the air. Shirohana avoided every strike using a single hand, without so much as shifting her feet.
"…You're strong, aren't you?" Ashrune said with a chuckle.
"Ara. If you already know that much, then why not admit defeat?"
He laughed. "I'd honestly love to. I could go take a nap. But — I'm standing in front of students, you know."
He dropped his stance lower. Then he vanished.
Even Shirohana looked mildly surprised this time. A punch appeared before her, and she tilted her head just enough to avoid it. A knife-hand strike came from the side; she dropped low. Ashrune immediately spun into a rising kick, and for the first time, Shirohana was forced to actually move her feet, stepping backward.
A faint seriousness crept into her expression.
Ashrune smiled and launched another kick. Shirohana slipped past it, caught his leg mid-motion, and with one smooth pivot, threw him clean behind the line.
Ashrune landed perfectly upright, dusting off his uniform as though nothing had happened at all.
"…Okay. Shirohana wins. Student Number Eighteen."
He strolled back to the center of the field. Shirohana returned to the line without a word.
Several more students challenged him. None of them succeeded.
"Student Number Twenty-One."
My turn.
I stepped forward. Ashrune tucked one hand behind his back again.
…He's underestimating me.
Fine.
I'll borrow Marcus's unfinished idea.
I threw a straight punch. Just as Ashrune moved to redirect it, I pulled it back and followed with a low kick. He jumped — exactly as I'd expected. Using the opening, I planted one hand against the ground, rotated my body behind him, and fired off a back kick.
This time, Ashrune finally used both hands. He caught the kick, flipping over me with the momentum. Already anticipating it, I balanced on one arm and launched another kick upward toward his center. He crossed both arms to block, and the force pushed him back several steps.
I can't just win.
I need to show enough skill that the students accept my position as president.
Still — some of them are already looking down on me.
Hmm.
Maybe Shirohana already set the standard, and now everyone's simply comparing me against her.
And on top of that, my class isn't exactly helping.
Then — I'll aim for somewhere close to her level. Not equal. Just enough.
I gradually pushed my speed higher. Ashrune matched it easily, our attacks colliding again and again, each one canceling the other before either of us could gain real ground.
A small smile crossed his face. "…You're acting even more fox-like than your 'wife.'"
…
…
…
That single sentence completely broke my rhythm. My next strike carried far more force than I'd intended.
Ashrune slid backward, laughing. "So that got under your skin."
Before I could respond, he closed the distance in an instant — too close. Pure instinct took over. I pivoted, caught the opening, and kicked him cleanly behind the line.
He landed without losing his balance, and I found myself the second student — after Shirohana — to have pushed him back that far.
As I turned to head back to formation, Ashrune reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Didn't I tell you? Power comes in many forms."
…
Right.
Message received.
Whether this attracts attention in a good way or a bad one — only time will tell.
A grin spread across Reinhardt Elthorn's face as I passed him.
"…You're my next target."
When I returned to the classroom to grab my bag, Shirohana was already gone.
Fast as always.
The room had emptied out almost entirely. Only one other person remained — the boy who sat in front of me. He stood beside his desk in complete silence, staring down at his school bag without moving, and for a brief moment he looked less like a student and more like someone trapped somewhere inside his own memory, frozen in place while the rest of the world simply moved on around him.
I walked toward my seat, intending to grab my things and leave without a word. As I passed by him, my gaze drifted his way for just a moment.
I caught the glimpse of a single tear sliding down his cheek.
Not the kind that came from crying.
It looked more like something leaking out from a memory too heavy to hold in any longer. Or perhaps — like someone who simply didn't know how to cry properly, and this was the closest he could manage.
I lowered my eyes.
His name was embroidered neatly on the strap of his bag.
Ravian Edevane.
…
The Edevane family…
Didn't they—
Before I could finish recalling the name, his voice cut through, calm and even.
"I wouldn't appreciate peeking, ya know."
My eyes shifted toward him. I stopped mid-step.
Then I glanced at him briefly before reaching down for my own bag.
"…I had no intention to, but since you were the only one in the classroom—" I offered, my smile polite.
Ravian was quiet for a moment. Then a faint smile touched his lips.
"No intention… I see." He tilted his head. "Then isn't it manners to introduce yourself too?"
He extended his hand.
A handshake?
Friendly?
That's… suspicious.
Someone this approachable on the very first day was already unusual enough. But a noble, being this open toward someone from the Common Class?
Is he after something?
Or is this simply coincidence?
Or perhaps neither.
Maybe both. Maybe something else entirely.
"Ah, my bad. My name is Katsuhito Kurogane," I said, accepting the handshake with an easy smile.
"Your atmosphere does feel close to me, in some aspects," he said quietly.
…
Atmosphere?
What does that even mean?
Without another word, Ravian turned back toward his desk, picked up his bag, and slung it over one shoulder. He lingered there for a moment, gazing out through the classroom window, the last light of sunset painting his face in orange and gold.
Then, without turning to look at me—
"Do you think life is worth living?"
His voice carried none of the earlier lightness. It sounded serious. Searching.
A rather particular question.
Before I could respond, he added, "Ah." He turned his head just enough to catch my eye. "I want to hear what you think. Not what you think you should tell me."
He faced me fully now, his bag settled over his shoulder, staring at me with eyes that carried a strange, quiet sadness.
How would he even know if I lied?
Then again — this question doesn't seem like it could put me at any real disadvantage.
And if he does have some way of detecting a lie, giving him a fabricated answer would only make things worse.
I may as well answer honestly.
"I think—" I narrowed my eyes slightly, choosing my words with care. "If someone feels there is worth in life, then yes — for that person, life is worth living." I paused, glancing past him toward the window. "But not everyone lives because they believe life itself has worth. Many continue living out of fear." I hesitated. "…Though not fear alone."
"So," I said, closing my eyes briefly before opening them again, "I think it depends. But life itself may not have any inherent worth."
Silence followed.
Then—
"Ohh…" His eyes sharpened, locking onto mine with sudden intensity. "As I thought. We are somewhat like-minded."
I gave him a faintly bewildered look in response. His smile widened, just slightly, and for the first time, something like real light flickered in his eyes.
He stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on my shoulder as he passed by.
"Well then. Let's meet again tomorrow."
With that, he quietly left the classroom.
…
What did he mean by that?
I stood there for a moment, turning the exchange over and over, and found far too many possible readings — none distinct enough to settle on.
I couldn't read his intentions at all.
And yet, in terms of raw strength, his mana pressure had felt comparable to Ashrune's.
Perhaps even stronger.
…
There are multiple forms of power.
Ashrune's words echoed unbidden in my mind.
…
Right. Observation first. Conclusions later.
For now, I need to hurry — or I'll end up late for the meeting.
I hurried toward the principal's office, careful to walk rather than teleport. Using it repeatedly inside the academy grounds would only raise the odds of exposing my abilities.
Better not take unnecessary risks.
Standing before the office door, I paused, drew a slow breath, and knocked lightly.
"Coming in."
"You definitely can," a voice answered from inside before I'd even finished pushing the door open.
I stepped in.
The principal's seat was empty.
Instead, Valerian Ashrune was sprawled lazily across the sofa, as if it were the living room of his own home.
"Yooo," he said, lifting a hand in greeting. "Before you ask where the principal is — she won't be attending today's meeting. So I'll be conveying her message to both of you instead—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes drifting past me toward the doorway.
"Oya? Isn't your companion with you?"
I let out a sigh. "You seem to have misunderstood our relationship. She isn't always with me."
"Hmm," he said, unconvinced. "My information says otherwise."
He picked up the teacup resting beside him and threw it toward me without warning.
Before I could even react—
The cup froze solid in midair.
Crack.
It shattered into a scatter of glittering ice fragments. At the exact same moment, a presence appeared directly behind me. My body reacted before my mind caught up, and I spun into a defensive stance.
Ashrune remained sprawled on the sofa, watching the whole scene with obvious amusement.
The figure behind me stepped forward into view.
Shirohana.
"Ara," she said, tilting her head. "When did you notice?"
She spoke as though nothing at all had happened before calmly taking a seat.
Ashrune laughed. "Intuition. …Or perhaps I simply trusted my information."
…
How long had she been standing behind me?
More importantly — how did I fail to notice her presence at all?
I glanced between the two of them, unable to fully mask the tension still sitting in my shoulders.
Shirohana caught it immediately.
"Cool down. I was only teasing. I do respect privacy."
"Oh?" Ashrune said, smiling faintly. "And what exactly is your definition of privacy?"
Shirohana said nothing, simply raising her folding fan to cover the lower half of her face.
"Well, well," Ashrune said, stretching where he lay. "Enough fooling around. Let's begin the meeting."
As I relaxed my stance, Shirohana murmured quietly, "…That's not a line someone lying on a sofa should say."
Ashrune smirked. "Simply sitting doesn't prove you're serious. So I'll remain serious while lying down."
"…Maybe we should call the principal after all."
"Is that a threat?" He chuckled. "Unfortunately for you, I personally confirmed she won't be available today. So — you two have no choice but to bear with me." He rolled over to face us properly.
Shirohana let out a short sigh. "I don't have time for your bullshit. Get to the point." She leaned back in her chair. "Katsuhito-kun. You can sit too."
Ashrune poured a fresh cup of tea for the seat across from him.
There were already too many thoughts crowding my head.
Trying to sort through everything right now would only make me more vulnerable.
I'll deal with it later. For now, I should simply listen.
I sat down across from him — or half-lay down, more accurately, given how the sofa was arranged. I picked up the teacup and took a sip.
As I did, Ashrune shot Shirohana an annoyingly smug glance. She answered with a silent glare.
Satisfied with himself, Ashrune finally pushed himself upright, his expression shifting into something more serious.
"The principal wants the two of you to form a committee. They'll become the public face of the student council beneath you."
…
I see.
So she's creating two layers — the visible student council, and the real one operating beneath it.
A cover protecting another cover.
If something ever goes wrong, only the outer layer gets exposed first.
A reasonable precaution.
Shirohana spoke first. "Are we free to choose anyone? Or are there conditions?"
Ashrune nodded. "You're free to choose anyone — under two conditions. They must clearly surpass others in whatever they're talented at. And — you two must personally vouch for them." He paused. "They also must not have strong ties to the upper nobles. You know exactly the kind of people I'm talking about." His gaze shifted to me, then to Shirohana.
I set my teacup back onto the table.
"…Hmm." I leaned forward slightly. "What if they discover what we're actually doing?"
Ashrune leaned back again. "Then they'll either become our allies… or wake up the next day seeing the world a little differently."
Shirohana gave a small laugh. "So — you do value your students?"
"I do. Which is precisely why I didn't say I'd kill them. If I did, the principal and I would become hypocrites. I don't believe a cause automatically justifies sacrifice. I believe in costs. And trade-offs." He paused. "That's why I'll take responsibility."
Silence settled over the room. Finally, Shirohana asked, "How much time do we have to form this committee?"
"Two weeks," Ashrune answered.
A brief silence followed. He stretched lazily.
"Well. I've delivered the principal's message. The meeting is over." He promptly collapsed back onto the sofa, as if the effort of speaking had drained every last bit of his energy.
Shirohana sighed once more. "…Let's go, Katsuhito-kun." She rose and headed for the door. I followed.
Just before stepping outside, I stopped. Then turned back. Shirohana paused as well, glancing over her shoulder.
"One last question," I said. "What is the principal doing that prevented her from attending today's meeting?"
Ashrune didn't even lower the book he'd draped over his face. He answered from behind it instead.
"Go read the notice posted on the academy bulletin board. You'll understand."
…
"I see. Well then."
We left the office.
As we walked through the corridor, I noticed Shirohana quietly watching my face.
As an assassin, one should understand that their life is in danger if they lack sufficient information about their surroundings, or fail to make a quick decision before their target moves.
But here, I still lack too much information.
About this academy. About the people around me. About Shirohana.
Tch… I can't shake off this anxiousness.
Most of the students had already left the academy grounds by the time we reached the courtyard. The once-lively campus had gone quiet, leaving only a handful of figures still walking beneath the darkening sky. The orange glow of the setting sun had already begun bleeding into deep blue, and long shadows stretched across the stone pathways.
Shirohana and I walked side by side toward the notice board. It was nearly night. Neither of us spoke.
When we arrived, a magical lamp hanging above the board cast a warm golden light over every posted announcement, bright enough that students could still read them long after sunset.
I stepped closer and read.
『
Serial Murders Occurring Within the Kingdom』
Dead bodies have been discovered in back streets and deserted alleys that are rarely visited during the night.
The investigation is currently ongoing.
Until the criminal is apprehended, all students are requested to return directly home after academy hours.
Please avoid taking detours or entering deserted streets, especially after sunset.
"…"
So that's why Principal Vivienne couldn't attend today's meeting.
She's probably tied up in the administrative side of things. I guess.
Considering the situation, it makes sense.
Still — hah. It's already nighttime, and apparently nobody thought to exclude us from the category of "students" for the sake of this warning.
Or maybe they just assumed everyone deserved the same caution.
Although…
I'd actually like to meet this serial killer.
Someone capable of killing repeatedly without being caught wasn't a person I could simply ignore.
Information is always valuable.
"What do you think, Shirohana-san?" I turned toward her.
"…"
She wasn't looking at the notice at all. She was looking at me. Directly.
Her silver eyes caught the moonlight now replacing the last traces of sunset, glowing with an almost otherworldly beauty.
"…Shirohana-san?"
No response.
She simply kept staring.
"…Ah… Shirohana-san." I forced an awkward smile. "What do you think about this?"
This time, she slowly lowered the fan that had been hiding the lower half of her face. A gentle smile settled there instead.
"…See you later."
That was all she said.
She stepped toward me — one step, two — and before she reached me, her figure dissolved. Countless glowing petals, white as fresh snow and shimmering like captured moonlight, scattered through the air before fading into nothing.
"…"
What was that supposed to mean?
That wasn't an answer.
And I couldn't even ask her to explain.
For some reason, that smile she'd given me didn't sit right. Something about it lingered, uncomfortable, at the edge of my thoughts.
For now, I need to organize everything that's happened over the last few days.
After that — I'll gather more information.
One thing at a time.
I left the academy and started the walk home. The streets were noticeably quieter than usual — shops already shuttered, people hurrying along with their heads down, even the usual evening chatter subdued into something more careful. The serial murder case had clearly settled over the city like a fog.
Silence.
Night had fully claimed the streets now, leaving only the soft chirping of insects to fill the emptiness.
Home.
I reached for the door, already certain of who was waiting on the other side.
Click.
The door swung open, and there stood my mother, exactly where I'd expected.
She wore a smile.
An angry smile.
"…Okaerinasai."
(Welcome home.)
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"…I'm home," I said, stepping inside and closing the door gently behind me.
She looked straight into my eyes.
"And so — where have you been this late?"
The smile held. Barely.
"…I was busy with academy work."
"…"
"Don't you know there have been serial murders recently?" Her voice climbed a notch. "What would you have done if you had run into the murderer? Do you understand how worried I was?"
"…"
Hmm. I honestly don't know what to say to that.
Before I could answer at all, Dad wandered out from the other room, wearing his usual relaxed expression.
"Let him rest. He just came back from the academy. He must be tired."
Mom turned slowly toward him. "…You don't say a word."
"…" Dad immediately looked away. "…Yes."
Ah, here we go again.
The lecture, which had started with one victim in mind, quietly expanded to include two — and stretched on for nearly two hours.
After dinner, I finally managed to escape to my room.
Click.
The door shut behind me, and the room settled into quiet. Moonlight streamed gently through the window, painting pale silver patterns across the floorboards.
I looked at my desk. Then at my bed.
Two options.
I could organize everything I've learned over these past few days.
Or — sleep.
"…"
…I'll sleep.
Because even if I forced myself to think it all through right now, exhausted as I am, I wouldn't reach any conclusions worth having.
…I know.
It's an excuse.
Still—
I let myself fall onto the bed, and the soft mattress welcomed me without complaint.
No voices.
No meetings.
No Shirohana.
No principal.
Just silence, beneath the moonlight.
Sleep claimed me almost immediately.
Unbeknownst to Katsuhito, a shadow quietly appeared inside his room.
It bore the shape of a fox — small, sleek, its outline traced faintly silver by the moonlight pouring through the window.
The figure padded closer, silent as breath, and looked down at the boy sleeping peacefully beneath the blanket.
A soft, amused smile touched its features.
"…Ahh."
"His sleeping face is also irresistible."
The back streets of the royal capital, far from the warm lights of the main roads, held only three figures beneath the pale moon.
The alley was silent. Cold. Abandoned.
Only the faint ring of steel broke the stillness.
Clang!
A shower of sparks scattered into the dark as two swords collided against a single knife. One man stood alone, facing down two attackers who came at him from opposite directions, moving without a single exchanged word between them — coordinated, practiced, deadly.
One leapt high, bringing his sword down in a vertical strike. The other surged in from the side, aiming a horizontal slash meant to catch the lone man between them.
A perfect pincer attack.
Or at least, it should have been.
The man with the knife leaned away from the side slash, the blade barely grazing the fabric of his coat. In the same motion, he lifted his leg.
Bang!
His kick caught the attacking swordsman's wrist from underneath, wrenching the blade's trajectory off course. The airborne attacker, already fully committed to his downward strike, had no time left to correct.
His own comrade's sword crashed directly into his blade.
Clang!
The collision shattered both men's balance in an instant.
The knife wielder moved without hesitation, without a flicker of emotion crossing his face. His blade drove straight through the throat of the swordsman still falling from above.
Thud.
The body hit the ground. Blood spread quietly across the stone pavement, black in the moonlight.
The surviving swordsman's eyes went wide with horror.
"W-What…?!"
Using the collapsing body as a springboard, the knife wielder planted one foot against it and spun backward with effortless precision, landing several meters away without so much as a stumble.
He raised his knife slowly, his expression calm. Almost amused.
"…Hey."
"How does it feel…"
"…when your comrade dies by your own sword?"
The surviving soldier's eyes trembled with fury. "You killed him! Don't frame it on me!"
The man simply tilted his head. "Though — I wouldn't have been able to kill him, if it wasn't you who blocked his attack."
Silence.
"You made me do it!" the soldier snarled. "I didn't!"
He roared and charged, his sword cutting through the air with desperate, uncontrolled speed. The knife wielder stepped aside with casual ease, steel scraping against steel as he redirected the blow.
"…Though it was you who attacked me first," he said. "With that sword."
"Shut up!"
The soldier swung again. And again. And again. Each strike grew more reckless than the last, his breathing ragged, his footing increasingly unstable.
Then the knife wielder noticed it.
His hesitation.
His hands.
Trembling.
From doubt. From guilt.
"…"
The knife reversed in its owner's grip in one smooth, practiced motion.
Slash.
The blade drove into the swordsman's wrist from the side.
"Agh!"
His fingers loosened, and the sword clattered from his grasp onto the stone. Before he could even begin to recover, the knife had already circled around behind him.
Stab.
The blade entered cleanly through his back. His body froze in place.
"…You… damn…"
A quiet laugh escaped the killer.
"…Framing is amazing, isn't it?"
He pulled the knife free slowly, blood splashing across the stone road, and kicked the dying man forward. The body rolled until it came to rest beside his fallen comrade.
The killer looked down at the two of them without expression.
"…Make sure to spend this time…"
"…with your 'comrade.'"
His voice carried neither hatred nor excitement. Only cold, quiet mockery.
He turned, and his black silhouette melted into the darkness of the alley, as though he had never been there at all.
Only moments later, the sound of armored footsteps echoed through the streets.
"Over here! Two bodies!"
A squad of soldiers rushed into the alley. The commanding officer stopped before the corpses, her sharp eyes sweeping the surroundings.
"…He's gone." Her fist clenched. "Damn it…"
She drew her sword in one swift motion.
"Find him! He can't have gotten far!"
"Yes, Commander!" the soldiers answered, straightening before scattering into the surrounding streets.
The female commander remained standing alone in the middle of the alley, staring into the darkness where the murderer had vanished, her expression hardening into something close to fury.
"I won't let him escape."
Even if she had to search every street in the kingdom, she intended to hunt that murderer down.