Expectations toward another person could only be one-sided.
The small consideration of daily life, an awkward yet fresh first love, and unseen devotion.
As well as sinister schemes, malicious slander, and hatred so fierce it was vicious.
People's expectations—or emotions—were invisible.
Even if one expressed one's expectations directly in words.
There was no guarantee those words would reach the other person intact. If anything, carelessly putting them into words could have the opposite effect.
Yet people often hoped that their complicated expectations would reach others without misunderstanding.
'Honestly, Freshman Number 37 has better swordsmanship. But if it's you, Lloyd Schultz......'
As he watched the mock duel without being able to hide his anxious expression.
'I trust you'll definitely notice my deep consideration: restricting the freedom of swordplay with the rule that injuring the opponent means disqualification, and letting you throw your weight around for a ring-out victory!'
That was exactly how Pontius felt.
It was not splendid like a flower that harbored poison.
Nor was it weighty like lofty Mount Tai.
'......Fast.'
It was simply brisk and swift.
Like a bird of prey stalking its quarry.
“Hup!”
The instant the mock duel began, Freshman Number 37 raised the tip of her sword and charged at me.
If I angled my wooden sword to parry it, the gap at my shoulder opened.
When I hurriedly twisted my body to protect my shoulder, sharp momentum rushed at my wide-open abdomen and thigh.
Thwack!
She did not even rely solely on her wooden sword.
A kick forceful enough to make my abdomen tingle quite sharply.
“Whew......”
Freshman Number 37 had already used the rebound from her kick to create distance and was catching her breath.
“Yes, Number 37! Keep cutting him down!”
“Kyaah! Maya, you're so cool!”
“What is Number 22 doing?! He talked so well at the entrance ceremony!”
Just from the reactions of the freshmen around the training ground, it was easy to tell who held the advantage.
It had been surprising when she passed against the merciless Pontius, but against me, who was in a lower weight class than him, she was practically flying.
'So this is why Pontius added the condition that we couldn't hurt each other.'
If injuring the opponent had not meant disqualification, the match might have been decided in an instant.
Whoosh!
Number 37's wooden sword was trying to tear me apart at a speed that quite literally cut through the wind.
'I don't know why Pontius is favoring me, but......!'
Yet the reason she had not been able to claim victory was.
That I was exploiting Pontius's favoritism to the fullest extent.
“......!!!”
I deliberately put vital spots that would leave me injured directly in Freshman Number 37's sword path.
Every time I did, Freshman Number 37 forcibly twisted her wooden sword away and withdrew it.
Tap!
Thanks to that, I could somehow maintain an even contest despite my lack of both speed and swordsmanship.
If the referee for this mock duel had been a fair-minded person, I would have been disqualified—or at least warned.
“Hoho.”
Pontius merely let out an interested exclamation with an expression that seemed somehow relieved.
Freshman Number 37 would have been justified in complaining about it.
“Whew......”
But she only gathered even her resentment into a breath and reset her stance.
Considering the age of an Academy freshman, it was astonishing composure.
'Is she from a knightly family?'
Of course, if I had been in her position, I would not have withdrawn my sword at all.
If someone dared to offer up a vital point, I would have carved it out without hesitation.
At the Sacred Light Orphanage, victory was a record written in the enemy's blood, not something bound by trivial rules.
At the same time, I felt a certain conviction.
If things went well, I might win this mock duel.
If I kept offering vital points and pressed forward with my weight class, I could push her outside the circle Pontius had drawn.
If Freshman Number 37 had no further move to show, then the saying that weight class was king under equal conditions would prove true.
“Hup!”
And as if she had noticed my shallow conviction, her wooden sword flew at me.
Faster, deadlier.
But it carried the resolve to overcome even Pontius's ugly favoritism with the reverse edge of her blade.
Whooom!
Sounds closer to a club than a wooden sword burst endlessly from above, below, left, and right.
“Urgh......!”
Thanks to that, even if I presented vital points now, instead of being cut I could be beaten to my heart's content.
There would probably be bruises when I stripped down later, but it was debatable whether those were injuries serious enough to warrant disqualification.
“Oh, oh......!”
That had been Pontius's voice, not mine.
It did not sound like the concern of a true educator worried that a freshman might be hurt, but the desperation one might hear at a racetrack.
'I don't know why, but he definitely favors me. In that case......'
The time had come to put an end to this rigged mock duel.
An Academy professor was openly favoring me and urging me to win by using an innocent freshman as a sacrifice.
How should one respond here?
The easiest way was to keep forcing the difference in weight class and earn a ring-out victory.
I would surely be battered by Freshman Number 37 in the process, so my whole body would ache, but as a competitor from the Sacred Light Orphanage, I was confident I could seize a meal already laid before me.
But.
'Then I'd just be dancing to Pontius's tune.'
A true gladiator of Yeouido suspected a hidden camera first when he saw a meal already laid out.
I was not aiming for the Knight School, and there was no reason to accept Pontius's unpleasant favoritism.
Dodging the wooden sword that came flying as if to break my skull, I erased the option of “easy victory.”
“......Hup!”
But openly throwing the match as Pontius had done would have the opposite effect.
If a swordsmanship novice like me did that, there was no way Freshman Number 37 would fail to notice.
“Yes, that's it! Keep pressing him!”
“Number 37! I bet a whole week of snack-shop money on you! Fighting!”
The brand value of “Lloyd Schultz” among these people would immediately plummet.
As someone who had to shake the hereditary nobles through the promising sons of concubines and illegitimate children among them, it was a risk I did not need to take.
Feeling my upper arm beneath the protective gear throb, I erased the option of “open defeat” as well.
A situation where I would lose out whether I won easily or lost openly.
'Then there is only one way left.'
“Hahp!”
I deliberately drove Freshman Number 37 back with an exaggerated movement.
At the same time, I slipped a hand into my pocket and roughly pulled the cord connected to the steam orb.
Then I threw it cleanly at my opponent in a straight fastball.
Clang!
As expected, Freshman Number 37 batted away the steam orb with astonishing reflexes.
Beeeeeeep!
“......?!”
The steam orb was embedded in the training-ground floor, letting out a mournful scream.
Naturally, everyone's gaze—and Freshman Number 37's—was drawn to the ground like a magnet.
A gap of not even three seconds.
“Ah!”
But I had already kicked off the ground and rushed forward, gaining enough momentum.
Even so, I could not help admiring Freshman Number 37's determination as she refused to give up, pulled her wooden sword close to her body, and tried to defend herself.
So, in respect for that determination.
I struck down at her wooden sword with all my strength.
This was not the realm of swordsmanship, but the realm of weight class.
Under the strike I brought down from above—coming from someone at least a full head taller than she was—her eyes and wrist trembled at the same time.
I could be certain.
If I kept pressing like this, “easy victory” was guaranteed.
“......Urgh!”
That was why.
For the briefest instant, I smoothly slid the wooden sword touching hers aside.
“......?!”
Strength, recoil, and gravity naturally guided me out of the circle.
“Ah, what a shame.”
A truly perfect loss by the narrowest of margins.
A difference no one could possibly notice unless they had directly crossed wooden swords with each other.
I cleanly succeeded in staging the appearance of someone who, on catching a perfect opportunity, had put too much force into his body and lost control of his own strength, falling outside the circle.
Silence.
Stillness as though sound had been carved out of the space.
Only the rough breaths of Freshman Number 37 and me existed in the surroundings.
No one could easily move until I brushed off the embarrassment clinging to my pants.
“Ahem, hm. First of all!”
It was Pontius's throat-clearing that broke the silence.
“Freshman Number 37's swordsmanship was excellent. It was very impressive how she used her advantage in speed to corner an opponent larger than herself.”
“Thank you.”
“But despite having several opportunities to land meaningful strikes, it is clearly regrettable that you deliberately held back your strength or withdrew your sword. Do not forget that a duel is real combat where blood need not be spilled.”
“......I will keep that in mind.”
“And Freshman Number 22, Lloyd Schultz.”
“Yes.”
Pontius wore an expression where many emotions mixed together.
Then he forced out a voice that carried a trace of embarrassment.
“There are a few parts of your swordsmanship that need polishing, but you overcame your disadvantage with your grit and presence, sparing no concern for your own body.”
“......Pardon?”
“Furthermore, you made proactive use of the permission I gave you to use anything in this training ground.”
“......”
“If this mock duel had been real combat, Freshman Number 22 would likely have been the winner. But it is also clearly true that your control of strength at the end was regrettable. Therefore.......”
Pontius examined the steam orb on the training-ground floor closely as he added.
“The result of this mock duel is a shared victory—that is, a draw.”
At that, the freshmen's thunderous cheers filled the training ground.
“Waaah!!!”
“A draw actually happened!”
“No, my lunch money!”
At the same time, I too gained a new realization.
Whether it was an unfair screwjob or an unfair lucky break, sometimes there came situations I could not escape no matter what the hell I did.
***
“The practical placement test for the Magic School is in the building next door, so move there at once. That's all.”
The moment the Knight School's practical placement test ended, Pontius left immediately without any particular cleanup.
“Even if it is a placement test, isn't that professor too hard on the students?”
“I think my wrist is completely ruined.”
“How did those two even win?”
“Wow, though, I seriously couldn't take my eyes off it until the end.”
Because of that, I was forced to enjoy the feeling of becoming a zoo monkey.
Saying, “I just got lucky,” in front of students Pontius had bombarded with a wooden sword would clearly only breed resentment.
So rather than ramble about an unripe excuse, I hurried toward the Magic School practical-placement-test site.
“Excuse me, wait a moment.”
At the calm yet powerful voice, my head turned of its own accord.
“You're Number 22, Lloyd Schultz, right?”
The beads of sweat gathered on her forehead held the spring sunlight, while her lustrous hair swayed like black silk.
Most surprising of all were eyes deep with blue.
They were so clear that I met my own gaze reflected in them.
'Hm, I believe it. You really are the child of a concubine or an illegitimate child.'
Most students who entered the Academy were “the results of important people's failure to use contraception.”
And most of the people those important figures took in, even at the cost of a tangled line of succession, were beautiful or handsome.
Looking at how she had inherited such looks whole.
It felt as though the secret of the birth of Freshman Number 37, my mock-duel opponent, had been drawn in my mind.
“Yes, that's right.”
“You....... Did you perhaps receive training to become a knight separately?”
After hesitating for a moment, she asked an ordinary question.
But the anguish contained in that question was anything but ordinary.
Unlike her, who had thrown herself at Pontius with desperate resolve for a full minute to pass his test, she had seen me knock away his sword the instant we began.
And even though I had used a few tricks, and even though Pontius's insane favoritism was added to it.
The result had even been a draw in our mock duel.
Her impatience at directly experiencing the overwhelming difference in talent (not) before her was plain to see.
“Before that, I would like to hear your name first.”
“Ah.”
But I had no obligation to ease her impatience. Not yet.
That was because I had not heard it yet: Freshman Number 37's name.
Was she from a family that could help my snowball toward clearing <Jjam Academy>?
I was a cold city man who skimmed government budgets as easily as slicing a cake, but a warm Yeouido-type man to the voters in my constituency.
If Freshman Number 37 would not be of major help to me, there was no need to reveal information to her.
Instead, maintaining silence like this.
Using her question as a launchpad to add a mystique concept, or an “unassuming powerhouse” concept, to the brand known as Lloyd Schultz would be more beneficial.
“I'm Maya Bjork.”
“Bjork......”
For the moment, it was not the surname of a great noble family in the world of <Jjam Academy> that I remembered.
But it was slightly premature to decide she was a generated noble, randomly created for each seed.
Sons of concubines and illegitimate children were much more likely not to be granted the family surname and to take their mother's surname instead.
There were three choices I could make here.
Since I had heard her name, I could answer Maya Bjork's question; I could simply give a fun-cool-sexy nod and turn away in silence.
Or, if I chose neither.
“Not that name.”
“What?”
“If you tell me your real name, I'll answer you too.”
“......!”
I could leave a strong impression even at the cost of building a stack of ill will.
The safest option was naturally to answer Maya Bjork's question.
Other than me, she was a promising prospect who had passed Pontius's Knight School practical placement test, which no one else had passed.
We even had the common ground of having passed the practical placement test together, so it would be possible to build rapport safely.
But if you only chose safe options at the Academy, a bad ending would be waiting at the end.
Since one had to push the playthrough to the absolute limit and roll the snowball like mad from the start.
I too needed to vet her in order to spend limited resources wisely.
Was Maya Bjork an investment target worth investing in? Or a voter who could help my snowball?
Perhaps my question felt sharper than Pontius's merciless dicing.
For a moment, Maya Bjork and every freshman nearby held their breath as though struck by an area-wide Silence.
“......Just wait, Lloyd Schultz.”
With a crisp motion, she executed an “About face!”
Between the triple axels she made across the sand, something other than beads of sweat seemed to sparkle at a glance.
***
The Academy administrative office was having a busier day than ever.
“A report has come in that Groups One through Four have finished the Knight School practical test!”
“The moment professors bring their grading sheets, update the grade reports immediately.”
“The School of Foreign Languages has requested additional proctors who can speak Elvish and Dwarvish.”
That was because, under the nature of the first-year program operated as the School of General Studies, every school's practical placement test was held simultaneously.
Through the administrative office, which resembled a marketplace, Knight School Professor Pontius came in whistling.
“The grading sheets for the freshmen I handled.”
“Ah, thank you for your hard work!”
As he handed the grading sheets to an assistant, the freshman grade reports filling one wall of the administrative office began to be completed.
Number 22, Lloyd Schultz - Highest Honors
…
Number 37, Maya Bjork - Highest Honors
The moment the administrative office stirred at the merciless result of “Fail” for every student but two.
“That was some very blatant favoritism. Blatant favoritism indeed.”
Garahevi's vicious sarcasm jabbed at Pontius's eardrums.
“......Did I hear that wrong?”
Knight and mage.
The Magic School and the Knight School.
And two men trying to rub shoulders with Lloyd by whatever means necessary.
“I do not think you heard anything wrong.”
“No, I thought I heard a fly buzzing somewhere. Professor Garahevi, did you not hear it?”
“......What?”
“What.”
A chest-swelling battle of nerves worthy of Ghiruto and Maske began in the Academy administrative office.