Having effectively shelved the matter of how to monitor the Six Persons of Interest, I collapsed into bed and fell asleep just like that. After being pushed around by the Ministry of Finance and tormented inside the carriage, lying alone in an empty room felt incredibly comfortable. A bed isn't furniture—it's magic. And so dawned the morning of my second day on Academy dispatch.
Of course, sleeping on it didn't magically conjure up a solution, so even after waking up, I was still just as lacking in surveillance methods. The thought even crossed my mind to brazenly march up to those Three Kingdoms bastards and say, 'Look, we're all people who know what we know here, so how about you just turn a blind eye for us?'
'Should I really just charge in playing crazy?'
But doing that would probably make the Minister and the Foreign Affairs Minister join forces to tear me apart, so I gave up on the idea. Having activity guidelines would've been convenient, but that would require there being precedent for this kind of situation.
After scratching my head uselessly a few times, I decided to head to the Main Building for now. Maybe watching how the Academy operated would spark some ideas? And I should at least make a show of inspecting things, even if only nominally. I'm an inspector, after all—if I don't inspect, I'd have no justification for being stationed at the Academy.
With that sense of obligation, I entered the Main Building, and something pink caught my eye.
'Why is she here?'
A pink-haired girl walking along with somewhat listless steps—Luize. From what I understood, first period was about to start, so what business did she have all the way at the Main Building?
"Luize."
After a moment's hesitation, I called out to her. I'd avoided her on the first day out of apprehension, but I needed to establish a connection with Luize to make my activities easier. Those multinational troublemakers would naturally gather around Luize even if left alone. So if I could just secure a certain level of familiarity with Luize, half my work would become easier. Fortunately, I had a connection to her as her friend's older brother—one degree of separation.
Come to think of it, that's not really all that fortunate. Erich, you useless bastard.
Luize turned around at the sound of her name, and recognizing me, her previously deflated expression regained its vitality. Then she scurried over and bowed her head. She really is a good-natured person.
"Karl, hello!"
Definitely good-natured. I nodded in acknowledgment and shifted my gaze to the paper in Luize's hand. Hmm, did she come all the way to the Main Building because of that? For now, I opened my mouth with the pretense of being pleased to run into her.
"We meet again after just one day. But what brings you all the way to the Main Building?"
"I'm trying to start a club. I was looking for a teacher to serve as advisor."
"A club?"
My gaze returned to the paper I'd noticed earlier. She was holding it preciously—could that be the application form? Noticing my eyes on the paper, she thrust the form she'd been holding toward me, exclaiming, 'This is the application!' No, there's really no need to show it to me.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to see it?"
"Of course!"
If she's fine with it, then whatever. Honestly, I am a bit curious about what kind of club the original story's protagonist would create herself. The club name is Baking Club—a perfectly ordinary club. The reason for establishment is to make snacks that soothe the minds and bodies of fellow students exhausted from their studies. A decent reason.
The club members are Luize Naierd, naturally the director. Second is Erich Krasius—expected. And the third, the last one...
'So he's already been caught as Number Two.'
Third Prince Ainter Ribnoman. The moment I saw that name, I squeezed my eyes shut. I had my suspicions when he was spotted near Luize yesterday, but I didn't think he'd already be in Number Two status. Is there no Number Three yet? Seeing that the Third Prince is the last one, probably not yet, right?
I looked at Luize with a mixture of complexity and wonder. It's only been a little over ten days since enrollment. Yet she's already captivated a prince she might never have even seen in her entire life. And not just any prince, but the Third Prince, famous for his political acumen.
"Well, it's a good club."
Having nothing particular to say, I handed the application back. However, despite the compliment that it was fine, Luize only responded glumly.
"But since yesterday, no one's agreed to be the advisor..."
'Of course not.'
Who in their right mind would accept to oversee a club with a prince in it? If you're lucky, you might catch the prince's eye, but if you make even the slightest mistake, there's no telling what might happen. It's like throwing your actual life into a gacha with undisclosed rates. The moment you become an advisor is the moment 'advisor' transforms into 'torture' in a different sense.
Of course, I don't mind. Having already clashed with imperial personnel several times work-wise, I have no reason to feel pressured by the Third Prince now. In the first place, I came here to monitor them—would it make sense for the watcher to be intimidated by the watched?
'Advisor, huh.'
I happened to need a legitimate excuse to approach the persons of interest. If Luize creates this club, the ones I haven't seen yet will naturally get drawn in, and wouldn't I just need to focus on managing that one club? Whether I can even be an advisor is questionable, but I'll have to check with the principal about that.
After that, I sent Luize off, consoling her grumbling self by saying that if she kept looking, surely someone would agree to be the advisor. Of course, no one will. Not until the very last moment when someone gets forced into it as a sacrifice.
Before that pitiful sacrifice is born, I should step forward. Luize gets to create her club, the faculty get to dodge a bomb, and I get to conduct legitimate surveillance. Isn't this the greatest happiness for the greatest number, or something like that?
"An advisor?"
The principal reacted as if he'd heard something unexpected. I understand. I didn't think I'd end up being a club advisor either, coming all the way here.
"Would it be possible?"
"Well. Since there's no precedent for such a case..."
The principal stroked his long-grown beard with a troubled expression. Of course there's no precedent. I'd have been surprised if there were. What kind of fool would try to be a club advisor while wearing the inspector badge? Unfortunately, I'm about to be that Fool Number One.
Still, given that this was a request from an inspector, and knowing the situation among the faculty who were all trying to pass off the bomb that was the Third Prince to each other, the principal pondered for a moment before nodding.
"I'll check the clauses. If I see a possibility, I'll let you know."
"I apologize for making such a request, Principal."
"Haha. It's quite all right."
And surprisingly, a solution emerged within an hour. The vice principal, breaking out in a cold sweat, was the protagonist who found that solution.
"Looking at the inspector's authority, it states that the inspector can intervene in the Academy's work. It's authority granted to overturn any work if there appears to be evidence of illegal funding."
The vice principal brought over a thin booklet and explained. The gist was this: the authority allowing an inspector to intervene in Academy work could be used to claim the inspector could intervene in clubs, which were part of the Academy's activities.
"To be honest, it's an opportunistic interpretation, but since there's no clause that outright prohibits an inspector's involvement in clubs, we can make the argument."
"Doesn't that seem like too much of a stretch? Will it be all right?"
"If not this, there's no other way."
The vice principal's gaze turned toward me with a hint of resentment—'Weren't you the one who wanted to be a club advisor?' Right, I was... In the end, we decided to proceed with the method the vice principal suggested. Honestly, it was a self-serving interpretation, but it was also true that there really was no other viable solution besides this method.
And I asked the principal to subtly sound out the Three Kingdoms forces stationed at the Academy. If an inspector who was already a target of vigilance suddenly pulled the eccentric move of becoming a club advisor, they'd naturally be concerned. I felt bad for treating the principal like I would the deputy director, but still, it was all for the greater good, so I'm sure he'd understand.
Fortunately, the responses were uneventful.
[Our kingdom respects the Empire's authority and will not interfere unless it violates good faith.]
[If the inspector's actions are not an overreach of authority, it is clearly a matter to be left to the Empire's discretion.]
[God regards diligence as a virtue.]
These were the responses from the Kingdom of Armein, the Yuben United Kingdom, and the Holy Church State, respectively. Since the inspector's presence at the Academy like themselves was already a given, it seemed they calculated it was better to let this odd matter slide rather than make an issue of it. After all, the Three Kingdoms had nothing to gain by gritting their teeth in opposition to the inspector's advisor position.
Rather, it would be a loss to sour relations with the Empire from the start. So they likely figured it would be more beneficial to step back here and remind the Empire of this incident later when the Three Kingdoms needed to present somewhat forced interpretations of their own. Not an incorrect calculation.
'If they'd known their key personnel would be joining the club, they would have opposed it to the death.'
Currently, the club has three members, all from the Empire. But from now on, personnel from Armein, Yuben, and the Holy Church State will join one after another. I can't help but feel pity imagining how dumbstruck the Three Kingdoms forces will be then.
"How pitiful..."
No matter how much they were key forces for protecting key personnel or whatever, fundamentally they too were nothing more than pitiful beings who rolled over however their superiors told them to. A sense of kinship welling up from deep within made me unconsciously close my eyes. I felt uneasy, as if I'd unintentionally screwed over a fellow middle manager comrade.
But what could I do? I had to save myself first. Worrying about others was a luxury I could only afford if I had the breathing room for it. If it bothered them, they could go get their own possessor to serve. If one even existed, that is.
And so my position as 'Baking Club Advisor' passed with everyone's consent. When lunchtime came around, I approached Luize, who had been wandering about searching for an advisor, and told her I'd taken on the role. Her eyes went round before she broke into a bright smile—it was rather cute. After only seeing my gloomy younger brother, it felt like looking at a younger sister instead.