CHAPTER 3: That’s Why You’ll Always Be My Rival

CHAPTER 3: That’s Why You’ll Always Be My Rival

CHAPTER 3

That’s Why You’ll Always Be My Rival

After the morning meeting was over, the president of the student council, Felix Arc Ridill, was left alone in the council room. He looked out the window.

Outside was a garden full of unusual varieties of rose, a gorgeous fountain made by a famous craftsman, and beautiful buildings with intricate designs extending even into the details of the pillars. This academy was the epitome of luxury—all of it a display of his grandfather Duke Clockford’s authority.

“Come, Wildianu.”

In response to his voice, a white lizard—the spirit Wildianu—peeked his head out of Felix’s pocket. Felix scooped the creature onto his finger, then held him up to give him a good view of the scenery outside.

“It seems we have more guests than last year,” Wildianu commented.

“Indeed,” replied Felix mildly.

Graduates of Serendia Academy had an advantage when it came to working in the royal court. Nearby nations understood that, and in recent years, more students had been traveling abroad to study here. At this point, diplomatic exchange was one of the school’s primary offerings.

I want to forge as many connections with our neighbors as possible today. We have those negotiations with the Kingdom of Farfolia coming up, after all.

A great many people would be attending the festival, including Ridillian nobles, wealthy merchants, temple staff, and ambassadors from nearby nations. And through the splendor of the day’s event, they would learn the second prince’s name: Felix Arc Ridill.

“What say we answer His Excellency’s expectations?” said Felix in a smooth, singsong voice. He continued, the words doubling as a personal vow, “To engrave the name ‘Felix Arc Ridill’ into everyone’s memory.”

The bell announcing the start of the festival rang out across a clear sky. As he listened to its high, proud tones, the prince left the student council room behind him.

As the bell sounded, the academy’s front gates opened. One after another, people dressed in the garb of high society alighted from their parked carriages and passed through. Watching from a window in the school building, Monica clenched her hands nervously.

It’s finally started…

When Monica thought of school festivals, she thought of students busily rushing around back at Minerva’s Mage Training Institution. Monica was always a part of the hustle and bustle, too—though in her case, she was fleeing from pursuing teachers demanding she present her research.

The atmosphere at Serendia Academy that day was completely different, however; this school was attended by noble children, after all. The main events for this festival were exhibitions, research presentations, singing, performances, and theater, but the behind-the-scenes tasks and odd jobs would be handled by servants and hired craftsmen.

So, aside from those performing or presenting, the students had quite a bit of free time. They could choose to spend it with visiting family, or if they had an eye on posts in the royal court, they could devote their time to boosting their reputation.

Monica—who didn’t belong to either group—mentally went over her objectives for the day. I need to protect the prince and recover the shamanic tool… Mr. Louis should arrive soon, so I can meet up with him and discuss the tool.

The issue of the House Albright traitor and the cursed tool concerned not only a noble family but the prestige of the Seven Sages. Rather than have Ryn convey the message, it would be best for Monica to speak with Louis directly. Nero and Ryn were already in their cat and bird forms, Nero standing by on the roof and Ryn in a tree.

“…Miss Ryn, can you hear me?” murmured Monica into the empty classroom.

“Yes, my lady,” came the immediate response, directly into her ears. As a wind spirit, Ryn could detect even a whisper, and she could deliver her own voice straight into the ears of others. She’d be the center of their communication network.

“Is Mr. Louis…?” Monica asked hesitantly.

“He’s just made it through reception.”

“I have something important to discuss, so I want to meet him behind the school building.”

“Understood. I will tell him.”

Before even a minute had passed, Ryn’s voice returned. “I was able to contact Lord Louis. He will go to the rear garden right away and wait for you there.”

“All right. I’ll head there immediately. In the meantime, please keep watch over the prince.”

“Understood, my lady.”

Her talk with Ryn over, Monica left the empty classroom and started toward the meeting point.

The problem will be swapping the real item with the fake once I find it… She hummed in thought as she walked down the halls.

Just then, a baritone voice rang out. “Lady Monica! Lady Monica Norton!”

Monica stopped at the sound of her name, and when she saw who it was, her eyes went as wide as they possibly could.

A well-built, black-haired young man in a black uniform—that of the Temple-Affiliated University—was rushing toward her. It was none other than Robert Winkel, a first-year student in the University’s advanced course, and the one she’d played at the chess competition the other day. He was also the one who had proposed marriage to her for the sake of playing more chess.

Generally speaking, you needed an invitation to attend Serendia Academy’s school festival. Nobody without one was allowed in. How was he even here?

As Monica stood there agape, Robert carefully peered at her face, then nodded, seeming convinced of something. “I knew it. It is you, Lady Monica. You look different from the last time we met, so I was afraid I had the wrong person.”

Now that he mentioned it, she had been wearing makeup and a different hairstyle on the day of the competition. It was only natural Robert would be surprised—he’d never seen her in her natural state.

“But your outfit today looks every bit as neat and tidy, in my opinion.”

“Um, thank you…,” said Monica, awkwardly smiling and backing away.

But for every step back she took, Robert took a bigger one forward. “I was so desperate to meet you that I talked my teacher into letting me accompany him.”

Monica remembered then that teachers from nearby schools had also been invited. Belatedly, she realized there was a chance that some familiar faces from Minerva’s might also be in attendance, and the color drained from her face.

I knew I should have had Lana do my makeup…! she thought.

Lana had promised she’d help her get dressed and do her makeup before the ball that night, so Monica had felt too guilty to also ask her to help figure out her appearance for the first part of the day. Now, though, she regretted her choice.

As she panicked internally, Robert took yet another step forward. They were a little too close for two recent acquaintances speaking to each other, and Monica began to tremble. She felt like a cornered animal.

“Have you given any thought to what we discussed the other day?”

“Th-the other day…?” she stammered.

“My proposal.”

Naturally, she hadn’t given it even a moment’s thought. On the day of the chess competition, she’d been too preoccupied by her run-in with Bernie and protecting Felix. In all honesty, she’d nearly forgotten Robert even existed.

“Um, so, I’m not really, ummm…”

“If there’s anything you’re dissatisfied with, please don’t hesitate to tell me. If it’s within my power, I will deal with it. I’ll pour my entire heart and soul into making you happy.”

She couldn’t tell him she was one of the Seven Sages working undercover and thus engagement was out of the question… So instead she just stammered.

Robert continued earnestly pressing his case. “I have never seen anyone who plays chess like you. And according to Mr. Redding, you only started recently. That means you must have so much room to grow… Will you aim for greater heights at my side?”

Monica enjoyed chess, but only insofar as it was one of her electives. She didn’t plan to dedicate her life to it.

“I—I, um… Well…”

What could she say to get Robert to back down? She got the feeling that it didn’t matter what she said—he’d probably be able to out-debate her anyway.

The nervousness and confusion caused her to pale. She teared up. She knew Robert only had good intentions, but he was still intimidating, and that made him terrifying for Monica.

Sh-should I…call for help…?

If she asked Ryn or Nero, maybe they’d put on those flamboyant outfits like before and run to her side. Or maybe she could use her hand sign and Isabelle would take care of it in true villainess style.

But Robert wasn’t an assassin after Felix’s life. The issue of his pressing her for an engagement was separate from her assignment to protect the prince. She’d have to solve this one herself.

Monica had raised her left hand halfway when she stopped and lowered it again. If she touched her left ear, that would be the sign for Isabelle to help. But she didn’t want to bother her collaborator with a personal problem like this.

Finally, she squeezed out a few words from her wheezing throat.

“I…I can’t…get engaged.”

Her voice was so weak, it might as well have been made by an insect, and Robert opened his mouth again to argue his point.

But before he could, a clear, ringing voice cut him off. “Robert Winkel,” it said. “Professor Redding is by the front gate looking for you. Stay with your chaperone—don’t wander off.”

Monica, her back now completely straight, turned around out of reflex. She saw someone rush over, his silver hair tied in the back and swaying to and fro—it was Cyril Ashley.

After wedging himself between Robert and Monica, he cast Robert a cold glare. “Accountant Norton is a member of our student council, and the school festival is a very busy time for her. If this is a personal matter, I must ask you to come back another day.”

“I see,” said Robert. “I apologize. I had no idea.”

Robert’s way of doing things inconvenienced Monica, but he seemed serious and earnest at heart. He gave in surprisingly easily at Cyril’s admonishment, then said, “I’ll see you again,” and hurried away.

Monica heaved a sigh of relief as she watched him go. If Cyril hadn’t been beside her, she would have collapsed to her knees on the spot. Instead, she took several deep breaths to calm herself and looked up at Cyril.

“U-um, Lord Cyril, I…”

Cyril turned a quiet stare on her. He looked somehow unhappy. Monica shrank back despite herself. He was probably angry because she’d caused him trouble.

“I-I’m sorry! I know you’re busy, and I didn’t mean to…to…”

“……”

Cyril remained silent, frowning as he watched Monica.

She began restlessly fidgeting with her fingers. Just then, he brought his right hand from behind his back and held it out to her. In his palm was a white rose.

Monica looked back and forth between it and Cyril until he suddenly made a face like he’d just realized something.

“Oh no. The ribbon…,” he muttered, pulling the ribbon tie from around his neck. The broach he was using to fasten it was a magic item. He was afflicted with mana hyperabsorption and never went without it. He smoothly slipped the item into his pocket.

Then he tied the blue ribbon—the color of which signified his academic year—onto the now thornless stem of the white rose, fastened it with a pin, and handed it to Monica.

“Put this on somewhere.”

“A…flower? I think I’ve seen other people wearing them, too…”

Monica had been seeing mostly female students wearing floral decorations in their hair or on their lapels. Was this some sort of festival event?

When Monica gazed in bafflement at the white rose, Cyril looked surprised. “Wait, you don’t know about the floral decorations?” he asked.

“Is it some sort of event?”

“…Never mind. It’s fine,” said Cyril bluntly to the confused Monica. But his eyes were drifting, looking restlessly down at his feet.

Monica looked wide-eyed at the uncharacteristically fidgety Cyril. He brought his slender chin back up sharply, like he always did, and pointed at the rose.