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After one round of combat, she and I sat down carelessly on the demolished garden floor and started talking.
"Big sis."
What a shameless old hag.
She'd wanted her form of address sorted out, so I'd gone through grandma, ma'am, and auntie in order, and got the wind knocked out of me so thoroughly I couldn't even breathe.
Ever since I'd regressed, I'd never once resented my lacking Body score as much as I did in that moment.
"Ho ho, that's right! See how much better it is when you call me that from the start? From now on, address me that way in private. Around the other professors, call me Professor Marey~"
Having gone through the harsh life of a mercenary, I knew all too well that being weak was a sin.
The whole matter of addressing her properly felt pretty unfair, but I had no choice but to bear it and call her whatever she wanted.
Still, wasn't this a bit much?
Calling that face "big sis," of all things.
I vowed that if the tables ever turned someday, I would call her "crazy old hag" and mean every word of it.
"Marey! What the hell is this now!"
Breaking through the faculty who'd been holding back the students crowding toward the rooftop over the commotion, an old man approached.
Dressed in a typical mage's murky robe and carrying a heavily twisted staff, he stared, eyes bulging, entirely at Marey, as if it were obvious she must be the one at fault, even with me standing right there beside her.
"Oh, big bro Linen?"
"Oh come on... you're old as dirt, what kind of 'big bro' is that?"
"Then what should I call you? Feeling old enough now that you want to be called little bro? Aww, widdle bro~"
"What? You've lived to be a hundred without ever having a man so much as touch your hand, and you're calling someone your little bro? By the way, kids these days call that a virgin for life, don't they?"
"Hey, I'm not a hundred yet, alright? You're the one who passed a hundred a while back, aren't you? Once you hit a hundred, does that fancy brain of yours start getting fuzzy on the memory too?"
"Why don't you just not say anything at all. My stomach's about to burst."
Hmm, the old folks had some serious back and forth chemistry.
Anyway, judging by the man's name being Linen, this must be Professor Linen Ford, the teacher for the "Accumulation and Depletion" class.
Just as I was wondering if professors were even allowed to fight like this in front of a student, he suddenly turned his head toward me with a pitying look.
"Oh dear... to think a student with such a bright future ahead of him got reduced to this... How many times did she hit your face, exactly?"
I could say, with absolute certainty, that not a single hit had landed on my face.
Faced with such an absurd assumption, I gave Professor Linen a deadpan, unimpressed look, and he helped me to my feet as he spoke.
"For now, go get treated at the Order's recovery room. Put the cost on Marey's name."
"Yes. Understood. Big bro."
Answering swiftly at the mention of the cost being covered, Professor Linen's expression froze in shock for a moment.
"Hahaha! You like hearing 'big bro,' don't you? Your nostrils are practically flaring right now."
At his reaction, Marey started clutching her stomach and laughing.
'What's happening here? Weren't the two of you just starting a fight over the whole "bro" address thing the moment you met? So I just called you both something similar to that crazy old hag.'
"B-big bro, why on earth would you say something so absurd all of a sudden? Just call me professor."
"Yes, understood. Professor. Well, I'll get going now."
"Come visit my office later."
Just as I tried to quietly slip away, Professor Marey said this with a smile, giving my shoulder a light pat.
"Yes... I'll come by soon."
"Good. Come by right after your last class ends."
What a cunning old hag.
Anyway, since I no longer wanted to face that geriatric duo any longer, I slowly walked off.
The professors I was meeting for the first time all gave me pitying, encouraging smiles, as if genuinely sorry for me, for having caught Marey's attention like that, and even offered words of encouragement.
Judging roughly by the reactions around me, I could pretty much guess what that damn old hag's usual reputation was like.
Well, regardless, having clashed with her until the garden was, quite literally, completely wrecked, I'd been able to clearly grasp the limits of my own ability.
In particular, I'd assumed the condition that I needed direct contact to Edit something would be harder to satisfy with a sword than with magic, but it turned out to be the exact opposite.
Especially when it came to Fire-attribute magic.
[Fire Fist]
Even though it was, in essence, just a spell that set a fist on fire in a somewhat menacing way, maybe because of the skill of the caster who'd completed it, I could feel heat intense enough to sear my skin just from being grazed by it.
If I so much as brought my hand near it to try Editing it, my hand would probably end up a golden brown, cooked chunk of meat.
I did what I could, colliding the spell with other structures to trigger explosions and using the residual mana that scattered from them to create spells of my own to attack with, but even that couldn't overturn the outcome.
That was because, from spell sense to physical ability to combat experience using magic, I couldn't hold a candle to her in any respect.
On top of that, when I countered with the exact same Fire Fist spell, Professor Marey, without so much as flinching, simply created distance between us and began unleashing a barrage of spells.
I tried my best to counterattack, but before I knew it, her fist had closed the distance and struck me square in the stomach, and I ended up losing after all.
"Ahh, if I could just land one hit on her, I'd feel so much better..."
Anyway, since she'd told me to put the treatment cost under that old hag Marey's name, I hadn't been badly hurt, but I figured I might as well take advantage of the situation and properly pamper myself with the full Holy treatment package, so I headed off toward the recovery room in high spirits.
……
"What on earth do you mean by that! Excuse me?!"
Early morning.
I couldn't help but burst out shouting at this unexpected piece of news.
"What do you mean, you can't put it on credit!"
After what had happened on the rooftop the day before, I'd followed Professor Linen's advice and gone to the Order's recovery room, received the full Holy treatment package, and woke up the next day feeling refreshed and clear headed.
And then, without a shred of suspicion, when it came time to pay and I asked to put the credit under Marey's name, the priests shook their heads with pitying expressions.
"Lady Marey has already sent many people our way."
Looking at how that woman behaved, that made total sense.
But what did that have to do with anything?
If anything, shouldn't they be giving her VIP treatment?
"But we have never once received treatment payment from a single one of them."
"..."
"So we can no longer allow you to put treatment on credit under Lady Marey's name."
"Wait... why haven't you been able to collect? Isn't the Order the absolute specialist at debt collection?"
At my furious question, the priest's ever-present smile cracked, just slightly.
"We've sent people over there several times before... but each time, it only ended up increasing the treatment cost..."
"What do you mean, increasing?"
"The priests we sent to collect the money never came back in one piece."
Had this insane woman really been reckless enough to beat up priests and send them home like that?
Suddenly, my stomach churned and I could practically feel my hairline receding further right then and there.
"Then how much do I owe you?"
"15 gold."
I thought back to the 10 gold Lancia had given me last time.
I'd paid 8 gold for treatment out of that, leaving me with 2 gold... which meant I still needed to find another 13 gold.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
The priest, oblivious to what state of mind I was actually laughing in, laughed right along with me good naturedly.
"H-how long do I have..."
"You must repay it within a week. After that, interest starts accruing."
"Interest? How much interest..."
At my question, the priest leaned in and whispered the interest rate softly into my ear.
Hearing the actual rate, my pupils practically split into fault lines.
"I'll definitely repay it within the week!"
"Yes. I'll trust you on that. May God's blessings be with you."
I absolutely had to repay it within the week, no matter what.
Because the interest charged by an Order that claimed to believe in a god was harsher than most loan sharks I knew.
On top of that, since this was the academy, students got to use their services at 10% of the normal price, but if the debt wasn't repaid even after a week, I'd have to pay the full original price.
A whopping 150 gold.
More money than my entire fortune before the regression, which left me with nothing to do but sigh.
To avoid getting completely ripped off, I needed to find 13 gold fast, but where on earth was I supposed to scrape together that much money?
That insane old hag was apparently famous for never handing out money, so she was clearly out of the question.
Should I go find Lancia again like before and ask her for money under the guise of another sparring match?
'Or... should I just close my eyes and ask Luna to lend me some money?'
Walking along while wracking my brain for anywhere money might come from, I arrived at the training room sooner than expected.
I checked through the glass window of the training room to see if anyone was there, but as expected, only Luna was inside.
"Huff... huff..."
Somehow, this girl only seemed to get bigger with each passing day.
"Huff... Benjamin... good morning..."
Nodding vaguely at her greeting, I began preparing my body for movement.
The clank of sandbags being fastened around my ankles and wrists rang out.
Today, with an extra 13 gold weighing down my shoulders on top of everything, the sandbags somehow felt heavier than usual.
"Something wrong? You look upset."
"Yeah, well... you know that feeling when you drink something thinking it's refreshingly cool water, only to wake up the next day and realize it was water from a skull the whole time?"
"That is... your own personal way of honoring the dead?"
Was this girl's brain packed solid with muscle too?
I forced a smile at her comment, shook my head, and continued.
"Something happened, and I thought it was resolved so I loosened up a bit... only to end up saddled with a debt, I guess you could say?"
"Explanation. More needed."
Eventually, I started explaining everything that had happened the day before, one thing after another.
Starting with clashing with Professor Marey, getting hurt, receiving treatment from the Order, and ending up buried in debt.
Having heard my whole story, Luna tilted her head, her trapezius muscles twitching.
"Fifteen gold? That's the problem?"
"Luna, I've got exactly 2 gold right now, okay? So I'm completely stuck. Should I just try asking my homeroom professor for help? No wait, can you even borrow money from a professor to begin with? If I asked that crazy old hag, would she actually give me any? The priests couldn't even get money out of her, so I probably won't be able to either? What am I even supposed to..."
Sinking into my own world, muttering endlessly, she watched me for a while before eventually returning to her spot and resuming her workout.
I too, in an attempt to shake off the gloomy mood settling over me, forced my sandbag-weighed body to keep moving and started doing rolls.
The really strange thing about this training was that it only ended once literally every last drop of strength had drained out of my body.
And after that, the single cup of health, or nutrient, juice I drank afterward felt, in her words, like torn muscles reattaching themselves and growing even stronger.
By the way, once the excessive weight and stress combined, my mind started to grow hazy, and a memory of an old comrade began drifting up.
That guy hadn't been muscular like Luna, but there was something about him, somewhere, that reminded me of her.
'Good day to you! A strong and hearty morning!'
Whenever he greeted everyone like that in the morning, everyone would end up hurling their stew bowls at him.
The entire mercenary crew had tried violence...
No, effort, to fix that speech pattern of his, but in the end, no one had ever managed to correct that peculiar way of talking.
'Help!'
That was what he always shouted whenever he felt the warm, loving touch of the mercenary crew trying to correct his speech.
Maybe because I'd heard it so much, it never quite left my head.
Thinking of him unconsciously like that, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder if Luna's speech pattern might also be impossible to correct.
Watching her work out all the time made me constantly forget her actual status, but she was, undeniably, a noble.
And not just any noble, a count's daughter, at that.
She'd surely received all kinds of proper education from a young age, so logically her speech should have been far more refined than mine, someone who'd never been properly taught, yet it was strange that she still spoke the way she did.
"Drink."
I wasn't sure how much time had passed.
While I let my mind wander through random thoughts to endure the physical pain, a cup of juice was suddenly thrust in front of my face.