I need to assess the situation in detail, but having been a student at the academy a few years ago, I could roughly see through these guys’ schemes.
I quickly headed down to the first floor and dispersed the gathered faculty members who were buzzing near the entrance before stepping out the front door.
The Food Ingredients Manager, who was sweating nervously in front of the protesting students, looked at me and his face lit up with relief.
“F-Finance Director!”
“Food Ingredients Manager, leave this to me.”
“Yes! I trust you!”
It was quite surprising to see the middle-aged manager expressing such faith in me, especially considering that Laura, my classmate standing right behind him, is the youngest staff member.
For someone who usually dealt with paperwork and didn’t meet students, this must have been a tough situation for him.
Having reassured him, I stepped forward in front of the students.
The students gathered in front of the building were tying red cloths around their heads and huddling together with wooden placards in hand.
“Students, hello. I am Finance Director Adam Keynes.”
“Finance Director…? Does our academy even have such a position?”
“Isn’t it common sense that we don’t?”
“Maybe the professors know, but staff wouldn’t.”
“Is he a high-ranking official? Beyond just being young, he looks about our age…?”
As I stepped up instead of the Food Ingredients Manager, there was a stir among the students. It wasn’t due to my influence, but rather because I looked way too young for a managerial position.
I quickly scanned the crowd of students.
‘Light blue wristbands.’
That meant they were second-year students at the academy, particularly in the Field of Magic.
There were around 200 students. Considering that a popular lecture by Kirke draws in hundreds, it was a substantial turnout.
However, the faces and expressions of the students at the back were filled with mischief and curiosity compared to those in front. They probably came out just for a bit of fun, rather than serious intent. Fine by me.
The phrases on their placards mirrored what I had heard earlier: “Don’t mistreat professors,” “Ensure professors’ rights,” “If the professor is healthy, the students learn well.”
And leading the charge was a small group of third-year male students.
I could tell how to proceed.
‘If it were the Student Affairs Director, this would have been handled smoothly.’
Unfortunately, I lacked the social skills of a Student Affairs Director and was not experienced in such matters.
So, I opted for the method that was most convenient rather than the best. It also wasn’t the time to fuss about minor details.
“Wait! What does it matter who that staff is? Anyway, we stand for the rights of professors—”
“According to Article 51, Section 3 of Grandis Academy regulations, regarding gatherings within the academy.”
“Huh…?”
“When 100 or more students gather for a common purpose, they must submit documents and requests to the Academic Affairs Department in advance for approval. However, if it is an educational activity or an impromptu meeting, it is exempt.”
“Wait a second.”
“And based on the slogans and placards you have been shouting until now, it is evident this is not for educational purposes and appears quite organized. So, of course, you must have received prior approval, right?”
Naturally, this was an impromptu meeting. But regulations flexible enough to twist at will exist in every establishment.
It was clear who stood at the top in terms of regulations between students and faculty. And what should I do if I, the one judging whether the students violated regulations or not, appeared to be the one who wasn’t spontaneous?
As if he had grasped my intentions, the leading third-year male student tried to say something.
But before he could, I raised my voice to ensure other students who hadn’t yet grasped the situation could hear.
“The purpose of this regulation is to prevent crowd disasters such as stampedes that may arise from students running amok or gathering in large numbers. Also, per the regulations, the penalty for violations starts at a minimum of 10 points and can go as far as community service or suspension.”
“W-What…?”
“S-Suspension!?”
“Hey, let’s go quickly. I’m finished if I get more penalty points here.”
“We aren’t doing anything! We were just watching from behind!”
“Wait! You guys!”
With the first round of regulations and penalties I mentioned, over 50 students out of the 200 dispersed like a receding tide. Those were likely students who genuinely came to spectate or noticed the tense atmosphere and hurriedly stepped back.
Most of those were at the back, meaning the leading third-year couldn’t possibly stop them.
As the crowd rapidly shrank, those remaining began to feel restless.
It was time to push further.
“Moreover, even if you had received permission, protesting in front of this building where faculty works is strictly prohibited. You, over there.”
“Me?”
“What’s your name? I need to remember this. You’re a student in Professor Kirke’s class, I believe.”
“Um…uh…I’ll go back right now!”
“Lance!”
“Shut up! You brought them here, so deal with it somehow!”
Q. What to do when a clearly high-ranking faculty member, in an angry mood, singles out a student and asks for their name?
A. Run away.
It’s only natural. It’s already intimidating enough for a professor to remember a student’s name; how much scarier is it if a high-ranking official, casually calling the name of a student, remembers it?
If you’re an academy student, it’s common sense to stammer and flee. Especially in a situation where the regulations and penalties were just mentioned.
I deliberately chose a slightly timid-looking male student from the front row instead of the leader. Someone who’d likely fold under pressure to disclose their name.
This was one of my tricks learned from my time as Finance Director.
Once the student in the front row left, the remaining students became increasingly agitated.
After a misstep, it could be their name on the chopping block next.
‘That guy who looks a bit fiery might not capitulate, but…’
Not all students are like that. Especially not in this moment, gathered based on mere numbers.
Honestly, students worrying about the well-being and working environment of professors isn’t the norm, right? While some students might genuinely care, for the majority, if they hear a professor is ill, it’s more of a concern for canceled classes than anything more serious. A brief moment of worry for the professor, and that would be about it.
Still, it was obvious why this large group of students had come out to protest.
That third-year kid must have sweet-talked them. I can see how he stirred them up.
“Earlier you mentioned the professor’s working conditions and well-being—”
“Y-Yeah! We’re just students who are concerned about the health of our professors—”
“I never thought there’d be so many students focused on their studies. Even if they’ve violated the regulations, as a faculty member, I can’t just ignore such sincerity.”
“Then!”
“Since you want to say that, this means you must increase the frequency of pop quizzes and group projects each lecture. If you are so sincere about the lectures, there’s no way you would refuse more quizzes and group projects.”
“……”
“Was Professor Kirke’s exam multiple-choice? This time it will be subjective, and regarding grade processing…”
“S-Sorry! We were wrong!”
“Hey, let’s go! Before the Finance Director says anything more!”
“Seriously, there isn’t really going to be a makeup class, right? Today’s class is canceled, isn’t it?”
“Guys! Don’t scatter!”
“Stop it, senior! Why don’t you just enjoy your quizzes and projects yourself!”
“You little brats!”
And just like that, the remaining 100 or so students scattered in all directions, creating a spectacular scene.
Once the sound of footsteps and the dust settled, only a handful—less than ten—of students remained.
In other words.
That meant that despite everything I said, only these ten stuck through the end.
Which meant these guys were serious.
“Students, what’s your name?”
“…Osley Dalton.”
“Osley Dalton. Ah, I remember now. You’re the second in the magic field in your third year, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yes.”
The top place naturally belongs to Cassandra, and I had remembered the name of the runner-up by a stroke of luck.
Osley Dalton, second son of the Dalton barony, ranked second in the third-year magic field.
He had also applied for a master’s position in Professor Kirke’s research lab.
“I broadly spoke about the welfare of the professors, but what I want to discuss is likely related to Professor Kirke’s matters.”
“I…!!”
“If it concerns Professor Kirke, she pursued it herself.”
“Eh?”
“I heard she’s been experiencing stress-related hair loss due to recent lack of progress in her research. We advised her to take a break on an academy-wide level, but she wouldn’t listen. That said, we can’t force her.”
Stress-related hair loss or hair loss due to hair loss-inducing elements—it’s all still hair loss, right?
Moreover, the fact that I mentioned advising her to take a break is true. However, if she takes a break, her salary would be cut for that period, and the accommodations she enjoys as a professor would also be revoked.
In the end, Kirke nodded to continue her research, meaning she had implicitly permitted it.
Osley’s expression visibly changed to one of despair. His intentions were clear. He had simply wanted to impress Kirke.
Given that Kirke appears as a genius female professor, her research lab must be sizable, filled with many students applying for master’s positions. With considerable competition, he likely wanted to appeal in whatever way he could.
Thus, staging this protest would be his way of saying, “I care about Professor Kirke!”
How did he convince the other students? He might have lured them by saying that showing concern would surely lead to better grades from a touched professor. I’m someone who applied for a master’s position in Kirke’s lab, so I understand her well. She’s likely to give additional points or good grades, etc., and he probably spread those sweet promises.
It’s evident just by looking at this third-year crashing the second-year lecture. The remaining ones are likely students eyeing Kirke’s research lab as well.
So, I could end this trivial matter here…
But.
‘Second in magic, plus aiming for Kirke’s lab means they might be upper-class students.’
These kids.
If they get into Kirke’s lab now, wouldn’t research on hair loss be expedited even more? I heard that after the previous incident involving the hair loss-inducing element leak, many of Kirke’s graduate students ended up hospitalized.
Usually, professors can only select a set number of graduate students, but this shouldn’t pose a problem if I kick a few strings.
Alright then.
“Osley, although I might have sounded a bit rough, I understand the students’ sincere concern for Professor Kirke.”
“Finance Director.”
“So here’s the thing… as I am well-acquainted with Professor Kirke.”
You guys.
“This is fate, so if you could lend me a hand with a small request, I will speak favorably to Professor Kirke.”
“R-Really?!”
“Of course.”
Just as I hoped for someone more useful than a younger student, it worked out perfectly.
Now, how am I going to make use of these guys?
*
Clunk.
Ruth, who had dropped his old sword, gritted his teeth and glared at the blade.
The Dark Sword, now rusted and aged from not tasting blood.
Its influence was growing stronger every day.
‘My thoughts and personality… feel somewhat extreme.’
Just a few days ago, wasn’t I intent on killing Cassandra? No matter how much she knew about regression, there were surely many other ways.
Yet here I was, thinking about spilling blood.
…The side effects of awakening the Dark Sword a month ago had been lingering.
The Dark Sword. A magical sword made of darkness.
That sword endowed unimaginable powers merely by holding it, but as a magical sword, it demands a price. In fact, if we really get into it, the price isn’t that steep.
The price of needing to taste blood and the extreme personality shift weren’t exorbitant for the power granted.
Even now, Ruth is at 6th rank, but if he uses the Dark Sword with determination, he could unleash power close to that of a 7th rank.
That’s why I couldn’t just throw it away. In an unexpectedly shifting future, the sword could become immense power.
What Ruth could do was to keep a sharp watch on the Dark Sword’s side effects and demands.
But something interesting happened after a long time.
“…Indeed.”
Rustle.
The page Ruth flipped through was a report obtained with the authority of the Student Council Vice President.
It was precisely an audience request report, which showed the list of those who had requested an audience with Adam a little over a month ago.
Amatrius Delphia Beatrice.
And the timing was just after Chloe Pisty’s second duel with Beatrice.
The moment when Beatrice overcame her chronic condition.
‘Adam must be involved with Beatrice’s overcoming of her chronic condition.’
Probably, they expressed gratitude during this audience request. The record of forcibly requesting an audience with the Finance Director, which wouldn’t have normally been possible, adds to its credibility.
Additionally, there were reports of the summoning ceremony chaos from a month ago and events that occurred during the festival.
The position of vice president opened up access to more information than I had expected.
‘With this…’
There might not even be a need to drop out of the academy. Perhaps I could utilize this vice-presidential position obtained through Adam’s suggestion to do something.
While that thought crossed my mind, a sense of anxiety also surfaced. What if I mess things up again like during the summoning ceremony or when I threatened Chloe?
By the way, did Chloe Pisty not inform anyone about the disguised Ruth? Despite that, there was no sign of her vigilance against potential intruders.
After all, wielding a sword is much more my forte than overthinking it. The more I thought, the more my head hurt, so I sighed and closed the report.
‘…I miss her.’
It was just one of those thoughts that arose. The more difficult and painful it became, the more I thought about wanting to see a specific face.
The one who was always there for me, always smiling and helping, Adam.
That face, which I still can’t forget, remains vividly stuck in my memory.
As I grew increasingly melancholic.
“Festival… Finance Director…”
“…What…?”
Outside the dormitory, an oddly familiar voice came through.
It wasn’t the owner of the face I was just thinking about, but it was an unforgettable voice.
The Headmistress and Chloe Pisty.
The two of them were having a conversation near this dormitory.
‘What’s going on?’
I gripped the Dark Sword again, extending my perception.
To be cautious, I pressed myself flush against the wall, blending into the shadows of the room to avoid detection.
‘Perhaps I could gather some information.’
The Headmistress and Chloe Pisty. Even separately, both are figures to watch closely, but if the two are speaking together, that’s a golden opportunity.
Especially considering ‘now,’ there’s no reason for the Headmistress and a student to be conversing.
What kind of discussion could it be? With that cautious curiosity, Ruth began to listen intently.
“So then… on the last day of the festival.”
“I watched fireworks with the Finance Director. Thank you for recommending such a good spot, Headmistress. Thanks to you, I had an enjoyable time.”
“…Hah.”
“…?”
The information might be useful, but it was a kind of unexpected revelation.
While quietly eavesdropping, Ruth frowned.
Why?
A sense of inexplicable defeat and frustration faintly washed over me.
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