Chapter 32
The appearance of Villar was like a ray of light for me. With club members acting like my sworn enemies, they had pulled out all sorts of snacks as if gearing up for a pastry revolution, making it impossible for me to eat them all alone. In such a situation, Villar’s presence would undoubtedly be a great help.
When thinking about it, there’s no reason to feel sorry, considering a knight would be cleaning up the mess left by his country’s prince. Plus, knights tend to have hearty appetites. He was the perfect candidate for the role of an efficient snack disposal expert.
Of course, I didn’t summon Villar purely for the sake of snack management. I mean, would I really be so rude as to do that? I was going to meet him today anyway, and coincidentally, a mountain of snacks had piled up.
‘What luck!’
I wasn’t sure if it was lucky for Villar too, though.
I invited Villar to take a seat—naturally, in front of the table overflowing with our members’ eager creations. Until we tackled this pile, none of us were allowed to leave.
Villar had a somewhat sullen expression at the sight of the snack mountain. It probably felt like he’d never been presented with such an abundance of food before. But what could he do? After all, a sizable portion of this feast was courtesy of his royal prince.
“Given that the club fair is approaching, our members have shown quite a bit of enthusiasm. I felt bad eating alone, so I wanted to share with you,” I said.
“I’m truly grateful,” Villar responded.
With a smile on my face as I said that, Villar couldn’t help but nod. There was just no logical reason for him to reject food presented by prominent individuals.
I got up, heading towards the shelf. There must be something to drink, right? These wretched club members had made me eat without even offering me anything to wash it down. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like true torture. How do I get my revenge on them?
As I pondered methods of vengeance against the members, my hand—unconsciously stretching towards the cookie jar—suddenly hit the brakes.
‘That one’s mine.’
In a hurry, I redirected my hand to fetch the tea leaves I had stashed away long ago, rather than the ones Louise had given me. There was no way I was going to waste something gifted to me.
“The Academy is buzzing with excitement preparing for the club fair. I can’t help but worry if it’ll be inconvenient for our guests from other countries,” I casually dropped while brewing the tea. The club fair was a massive festival for the Academy internally, and externally, it was a day when outsiders could step inside. For the forces stationed there to protect key figures, this would be a high-alert event.
“Oh, don’t mention it. Those fond memories of my school days got me feeling all giddy again,” Villar said, his voice light.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
I giggled softly and sat across from Villar. As I handed him a teacup, I quietly observed his grateful expression as he accepted it.
While the fair was a light chat topic during our tea brewing, it also marked the reason I was sitting face-to-face with Villar. The club fair itself wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that with its commencement, the Academy would be opened to the public, which was a real headache.
‘He must be rather distressed about it.’
The club fair was an annual event steeped in the Academy’s history. It wasn’t suddenly being pushed by the Empire or the Academy itself. The three countries were aware that it occurred around this time, leaving little room for blame-shifting.
Yet, even with foreknowledge and preparation, experiencing it firsthand was a different kettle of fish. Sure, they might know they were going through a cold-weather training drill, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t want to resist when the actual moment came barreling at them. Did he not just say he was excited thinking of his school days?
‘Can’t say I blame him for feeling hyped up.’
With important figures flooding into the Academy, it was bound to become chaotic. On top of that, they’d have to ensure their VIPs stayed safe. It’s always the case where if the higher-ups are fidgeting, the lower ranks end up losing their minds.
“Well, it appears there will be more guests this year than ever before,” I mentioned.
At this, one of Villar’s eyebrows flicked. He was probably skeptical about whether my comment indicated a real spike in visitors or if the Empire might take advantage of the fair to bolster its forces. He was right to be uncertain. But it was the former—definitely not the latter.
I learned through the student council that the number of visitors was set to increase this year. Given the troubles of nobles appearing unannounced, the Academy had begun keeping a list of noble guests planning to attend the fair, which functioned almost like a reservation system.
But upon reviewing the list, I saw a staggering increase compared to last year or the one before. With numerous odd variables in play this year, it seemed the numbers had swelled.
“Recently, many events have unfolded within the Empire. Now that things have calmed down, a lot of people want to witness firsthand the potential leaders of the next generation,” I explained.
“Is that right? From my perspective, as someone who remains here, I notice fresh talents regularly. I can only imagine the surprise for those traveling from afar,” Villar replied.
“Well, just hearing you say that makes me feel an odd sense of pride,” I quipped lightly.
As I broached topics the nobility desperately wanted to avoid, Villar’s demeanor softened outright. I was careful to imply that I was skillfully suggesting the increase in guests was coincidental and devoid of any ulterior motives.
“Actually, there’s something I’d like to ask of you, Sir Villar.”
“Please, do speak.”
Villar, displaying a noticeably more relaxed expression, nodded. That face would likely soften even further, though I typically don’t extend such favors to others. But looking at Villar, he embodies the hardships of a civil servant, so I made an exception.
“As I mentioned just now, the crowd at this club fair will likely swell significantly. Thus, it’s highly possible that our booth will receive a fair bit of traffic.”
Villar’s expression turned serious. It was his duty to oversee the significant individuals within a crowd gathered at our booth.
Though he probably anticipated this from the talk of growing external guests, it’s one thing to think it alone, and quite another to hear someone quip, ‘You’ll likely have to babysit them like crazy in that crowded booth.’
“So, I’d like to ask if you could kindly assist me, along with your colleagues from the other nations, if you can manage it.”
“Assist?”
“Yes! The more personnel we have at the booth, the better off we’ll be. Do you think that’s achievable?”
I believed it would be possible. Even if it was somehow impossible, they wouldn’t hesitate to squeeze every last bit of manpower they had to make it happen. If this suggestion had come from the Three Nations instead, they would’ve needed to bow deeply, begging for assistance.
Typically, their forces would have to patrol the booth vigilantly. And then, they’d have to engage in a battle of wits with the guards of other nobles. Just the thought was exhausting.
However, should they accept my offer, they could participate in the club fair, comfortably stationed at the booth. This meant they would have no need for needless wrangling, and the key figures they had to protect would be right in front of them! It would seem odd to decline such a reasonable request.
See? Look at how those tense eyes of Villar are now sparkling with light!
“Considering how we owe a great deal to the Prosecutor, how could we shield ourselves from such a minor request?”
“Ah, haha! Thank you so much. I was worried about how well I could perform during the fair, but now I feel at ease.”
Thus, a mutually satisfying agreement had been reached. The Three Nations were granted lawful close protection duties without fears of clashing with the Empire’s forces, and I had individuals to monitor the members in my stead. If the club members ran into trouble with other nobles, it would ultimately be me who had to clean up that mess. I can’t allow that to happen!
Moreover, by showing this considerate gesture, the likelihood of the Three Nations being willing to cooperate or yield to me would surmount. I mean, if there’s no loss involved, you’d want to stack up a few brownie points, right?
Seeing that Villar seemed relieved, he picked up one of the snacks stacked on the table and popped it into his mouth. A cookie made by Louise.
“…It has a unique flavor.”
After chewing a few times in silence, Villar chimed in quietly. Just as I suspected, given his knightly demeanor, he was far more composed than my chaotic club members. Typically, those guys couldn’t hide their discomfort when food didn’t cater to their tastes.
But if Villar were to show discontent and I chimed in, ‘Oh, but Rutis made that!’ It would be a catastrophic turn of events for him. A sad fate indeed.
“Exactly! Personally, I love this flavor,” I chimed back.
Of course, I wasn’t about to spill the beans on who made what. If I did, Villar would inevitably eat everything evenly.
Along with my smiling visage, Villar also softly smiled and quietly finished the cookie. I’ll say it once more. Until we dispose of this mountain of snacks, not one of us can leave the premises!
The performance of this daily snack disposal expert was quite satisfactory. Unsurprisingly, given that he’s a knight with high basal metabolic rates, he polished off quite a bit. When I mentioned sending what the club made to the forces of the Three Nations tomorrow, Villar silently lowered his gaze and expressed his thanks. I presumed he was delighted at the prospect of sharing these delightful snacks with his subordinates.
Well, even if he wasn’t ecstatic, tough luck on him! If he wants to work in this booth, he’d better eat what’s served. The snack disposal expert had no right to complain!
“There are more mouths to feed, so feel free to make as many as you wish,” I confidently declared within the gathering of club members. Now that I had a method to ensure everything was consumed, they had no reason to hold back. If any were left over, we could just send them over to the Three Nations. I mean, given the number of mouths there, how could they possibly be overwhelmed by what just six people made?
— Thank you for your generosity, Prosecutor, but there’s really no need for this excessive supply of food.
Nope, not happening. These lunatics went full-on factory mode on the pastries.
Through the communication crystal, I could see the gloomy despair in Villar’s eyes.
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