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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Just Dig the Ground and Fill It with Water
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I entered the first-year dormitory with Damian in tow.
"Friend! I'll come play later!"
"Don't come."
I first shoved Damian into his dorm room, then headed upstairs.
The room I'd been assigned was <807>. It was on the top floor of the building.
'This is it.'
I checked the number on the door and entered the room.
Creak—
Jenion Academy dorms were standard double rooms.
Even for the heirs of prestigious families, and my roommate hadn't arrived yet, leaving the neat room completely empty.
I first took a quick look around the room.
'As expected, academy life has its perks.'
There were two beds.
Two desks and bookshelves for studying, plus two sets of drawers and wardrobes for miscellaneous items.
They showed some signs of use, but the condition was quite good.
Turning my gaze to the bed, I spotted a large box with
'This is…'
The contents of the box were more varied than expected.
The first thing that caught my eye was a small box inside, filled with school supplies like pens and notebooks.
Below that were a spare uniform set and two training outfits suitable for sleepwear.
The box held various other miscellaneous items, mostly related to daily life.
It could be called uniform for all students, but the intent behind it was clear enough.
'Even trivial items reveal one's status.'
A faithful adherence to the founding chancellor's teachings.
But its effectiveness? Who knows.
Sure, they receive these academy-issued items at the start of the semester, but in time, everyone would bring their own personal belongings.
The academy couldn't prevent that.
I sorted through the items in the box, putting each in its place.
Uniforms and training clothes on hangers, small items like pens straight into my sub-space without needing the desk.
I'd just finished roughly organizing when—
Creak—
The door opened, and someone entered the room.
My roommate.
But a strangely familiar face.
Not from my past life's acquaintances. Someone I'd seen more recently…
The memory clicked. One of the two who'd gone up on stage at the entrance ceremony.
Not Dalia, of course.
'…Pola, was it?'
That was the name.
Top martial arts entrant.
'Hmm, I wonder how good he is?'
Prestigious family entrants get in via special admission without exams, but regular students must take the entrance exam.
Which meant the Pola in front of me was the top among martial arts students who took it.
In other words, unmatched except by prestigious family students.
I eyed Pola with interest when a sudden thought struck me.
'But that guy…'
His gaze was insolent. Somehow unpleasant.
His words were too.
"Let's keep it quiet as much as possible."
"…"
"I won't care what you do. You can stay up late with the lights on. But no interfering with each other. Not even talking after this."
Treat each other like air.
Normally, with my twisted nature, hearing that would make me want to test it.
If he doesn't care what I do or if lights stay on late, then belting out a song past midnight to wake him would be tempting.
Did my eyes betray that thought?
"Why no answer?"
Pola's gaze sharpened.
I didn't respond.
I stared at him, weighing various thoughts, then—
Whoosh.
"…!"
I shot up from my seat, and he reacted instantly.
He assumed a stance ready to counterattack, and I inwardly admired it.
'Not bad.'
His reflexes were decent.
An outsider might call Pola oversensitive.
Just standing up, and he's gripping his sword hilt? Unless it's extreme paranoia, that's not behavior for the academy.
But I'd infused my movement with intent.
'If he hadn't reacted, I'd have been disappointed.'
And that's not all.
'He's got some real combat experience.'
Narrow hallway. Not ideal for a swordsman.
Drawing a sword usually requires space, but here there was none.
Inexperienced swordsmen don't think that far.
But that subtly twisted grip on the hilt—his draw wouldn't hit the wall.
'Improvisation? No, more like ingrained instinct.'
His reaction speed left no time for thought.
"What's your game?"
Pola stared at me, tense.
I just smirked.
"What else? Heading out."
Right on cue, a voice from outside.
"Friend! Hurry up!"
Damian.
At the sound, Pola subtly stepped aside, but his hand stayed glued to the hilt.
I brushed past him, tapping his shoulder.
"Do whatever you want. But…"
"...?"
"If I sing past midnight, don't complain. Got it?"
Of course, no answer.
* * *
Stepping out, an excited Damian waited.
"Who's the roommate?"
He peeked through the closing door at Pola and asked.
"Pola."
"Pola? Don't know him."
Figures.
He'd been sprawled out sleeping during the entrance ceremony in the auditorium.
I wondered why he asked about familiar faces in the academy when he knew none, but I'd grown used to Damian's way of talking.
"But why?"
"Oh! Right."
At my question, Damian pulled a pamphlet from his pocket.
The academy first-year class guide.
"Let's tour the academy!"
"Tour?"
Damian nodded.
"Ransi said…"
Ransi, the curt butler's name.
"There's tons to see at the academy. Gotta do it on the first day. And with a friend."
"…Yeah, sure."
Hearing that, I could guess the blunt, oblivious butler's aim.
'Jenion Academy is huge.'
Part of Hazen city, but its size rivals a small town.
The grounds divide into basic, intermediate, and advanced sections, with the populous basic section further split by year.
Even the first-year basic section is massive.
'So, learn the layout to avoid getting lost.'
Basic classes are in classrooms, but some require going to outdoor training grounds.
Showing up clueless on class day could mean wandering lost.
Sending Damian alone felt unreliable, so…
'He dragged me in.'
Not a bad deal.
Descending the dorm stairs, I glanced out the hallway window.
Vast dorm grounds outside, first-years for the ceremony, busy caretakers scurrying about.
Among them, presences that stood out.
Not visually.
Sss—
My mana senses, sharpened by purity rivaling my past life.
I hadn't regained that past realm, but my senses were flawless.
The issue: I can't maintain them constantly like before.
That's for later.
Anyway, my senses caught highly alien presences.
All too familiar to me.
'Decullan…'
Troubleshooter senses.
* * *
First, Damian and I headed to the entrance office for academy maps.
"Almost missed it. We nearly didn't get maps."
True.
Students wandered the halls, one hand with class pamphlets, the other maps.
A bit later, and they'd have run out.
"The academy's cutthroat. Move slow, and you miss everything."
Not quite.
It's competitive, sure, but not for this reason.
Still, I didn't correct Damian's misconception. Basic class for three years—no way he'd fail while I'm here.
Misconception or not, his quick pace benefits my sanity.
'Though three years isn't guaranteed…'
If there's enough to gain, even longer, but that's future talk.
Truth is, my main reason for the academy was the east's greatest library, Rapiter.
So, with Damian like a barnacle, I poked around the academy.
Using the class guide and map, I noted class buildings and memorized routes.
Damian just toured mindlessly…
"Look, a lake! Wow! We don't have one at home."
That's why the blunt butler roped me in.
But who am I? Twisted heart means I repay debts.
"Tell them to make one."
"Huh?"
"Just dig the ground and fill it with water."
"Hmm."
Damian pondered briefly.
Then perked up, eyes shining. His words a disaster for Blandoga's servants and mages.
"Yeah! Tell them bigger and grander than that!"
"Sure."
"What to name the lake?"
I thought a moment.
"Blood, Sweat, and Tears."
"Great!"
Call the name ridiculous? Not to me.
That Blandoga lake would hold countless servants' blood and sweat, mages' tears.
My petty revenge continued.
"Look, statues! So cool!"
"Tell them to make those too."
"What name?"
"Blood, Sweat, and Tears No. 2."
"Great!"
Soon, house-sized statues at Blandoga.
"Make it dragon-shaped. Scales are beautiful."
"Great!"
Carving each scale? Sculptors might cough blood. Not my problem.
Touring halls, my senses scanned sharply.
Extending them consciously was tiring, but fruitful.
'Numbers roughly…'
Seven Troubleshooters spotted, probably under ten total.
Key: their distribution meaningful. Plot on map, center is—
Second Magic Studies Hall.
First-year magic classes and Parun's lab.
One conclusion.
'Suspected as much…'
Indeed.
'Parun's the target.'
Makes sense.
What are Decullans?
Monitoring a target includes their circle.
Range varies by mission importance—sometimes even decades-old contacts.
'Still suspicion phase.'
They guess Henji has an ally.
But surveillance density suggests broad watch on possibles, not pinpointed.
As I thought that.
"Those statues are cool too."
Damian eyed the founding chancellor—sage's statue before Second Magic Studies Hall.
I reminded him firmly.
"Dragon statues are best."
"Why?"
"Scales are cool."
Couldn't abandon Blood, Sweat, and Tears No. 2.
"Let's go elsewhere."
"Yeah!"
Turning, a stealthy presence trailed us.
I smirked inwardly.
Worried it wasn't following—perfect timing.
That one will tell me what the infiltrators are doing, and how much they know of Parun.
He has no clue.