Rotsard Vallhall was seated cross-legged in the middle of the cold room, amongst the broken shards of the ice pillar that was originally in that spot.
The boy was surrounded by the circle of light, and a snow mirage of massive, disjointed wings was hovering over him.
This time, though, Rotsard had one eye open while raising his right hand, on top of which a sphere composed of snow was floating.
The initial form of the Joy of First Snow spell.
Snowball.
And the boy wasn't coughing out blood while casting it!
"...bhgugh…!"
…well, at least until his concentration wavered and the wings and circle of light disappeared, because as they vanished and only the active spell remained, Rotsard's insides were pierced with sharp pain, and gooey blood forced its way up his throat.
"Damn it…! Again!"
The bleached-blond-haired boy cursed in annoyance, spitting out the blood before immediately closing his eyes and focusing.
"..."
But this time, the circle of light and spectral wings did not appear.
"Oh, come on! I thought that I figured out how to consistently get into that state!"
After some time, Rotsard gritted his teeth and scoffed at himself, greatly dissatisfied with his progress.
…or rather, the lack of it…
If things continue that way, the results would never be…
…r-results…?
"Holy shit! Evaluation results! I was supposed to mess with Justin as they were put up!"
Rotsard jolted himself up, and rushed to the door, hurriedly grabbing and putting his clothes haphazardly before busting out of the cold room into the dark hallway.
"...!"
It wasn't dark because of some unnatural reason. It was simply night outside already, but that only increased the boy's anxiety.
His head snapped away from the window, and he charged down the hallway, sliding into the corner and passing the heat barrier at an angle, only to unleash another burst of speed and sprint out of the dormitory.
The main door to the main building of the Royal Academy was never locked, so after just a moment, Rotsard was inside the dimly lit entrance hall that he passed through hastily, stopping in front of the large announcement board.
If he was late, missing the timing for his obligatory interaction with the future hero, the results would have been posted already.
Luckily, not a single list was there.
"Whew…! Wait, no…! I could have been in isolation for too long and missed the window for the results being posted publicly…!"
The bleached-blond-haired boy breathed out in relief, only to flinch and tense up as a chilling thought appeared in his mind.
Rotsard haphazardly checked the whole announcement board for any clues.
There were a few announcements with dates included, but no indication of the current one.
Well, at least there were no papers dated after what would be the last day of the evaluation results being posted.
"..."
Rotsard turned to the side with a troubled expression, but then suddenly glanced to the side, lightly biting on his lips.
"...might as well, right…?"
The boy tilted his head, with the dim light successfully masking the slight blush covering his face as he said it.
—----
"May we eat by your side?"
"Good morning, young lord Vallhall. We apologize for the disturbance."
While Rotsard was crunching through a truly massive chunk of meat on the thick bone in the cafeteria, he was approached by two other first-year students.
He recognized both of them, too.
The first one, more forward, was the only other student besides Justin who could only use the internal spells. He wasn't very tall, and he had fairly dark reddish hair that made one think of a fox.
The other one was Rotsard's classmate. The one who originally sat in the front row, right by the door. He was much more withheld than his friend. He actually also shared some fox-like traits, and even his hair seemed to be the right color, only not for the red but rather the gray fox.
Rotsard, who took the spot in the cafeteria with the best view over the area, was aware that those two hung out together during meals, but usually they would choose an inconspicuous spot close to the door.
The reason for them changing their ways and getting a lot of attention from others seemed already interesting enough to be worthy of entertaining.
"There are no rules against that. Be my guest. Just…"
"...?"
The bleached-blond-haired boy shrugged his shoulders and nodded approvingly, although he did speak up with caution afterwards, causing the pair to freeze up with their trays above the table.
"The kitchen staff doesn't like me very much. I can't guarantee that your food will be safe from now on."
"!!!"
Rotsard pointed out, moving his head slightly and glancing back towards the small kitchen door, causing the young kitchen helper boy to flinch and retreat inside in panic over getting caught staring.
"We're willing to take that risk."
"Thank you."
The two boys sat down regardless of the warning and began to eat in silence.
"If I may. My name is Felix Fallrain, my lord. Can I bother you with a few questions?"
"...!"
The boy with red hair spoke up from over his plate without even glancing at Rotsard, causing the dark-gray-haired friend of his to tense up and stare at him in exasperation.
"Depends on the questions, young lord Fallrain."
But most of the worries were put to rest by Rotsard's answer, spoken in the same manner as Felix's question.
"Back during the physical examination… your third try at the ranged spell. You didn't actually use any enhancement magic, did you?"
The red-haired boy looked straight at Rotsard and asked, although it did sound a lot like an accusation of a crime.
…and it instantly changed the atmosphere at their table…
Honestly, at first Rotsard wasn't going to take the bait, no matter how alluring, but then a shadowy figure appeared in the corner of his eye... Just barely registering in his vision.
The deofol was there to observe, and Rotsard instantly recalled that according to the story, his character should have a confrontation with the future hero while causing trouble at the cafeteria… and got reminded of the bet about the evaluation results and then followed Justin to face the shameful defeat.
Deofol was there for a show.
Again.
And that alone was enough, for Rotsard's anger grew far above that of his book equivalent.