Chapter 2: Preparations for the Festival ~Each Person’s Feelings and Schemes~

Located in the southeastern part of Cantare, one of the three major regions of the Alzano Empire, lies the Rikian Seventh Garrison Base.

Situated near the border with the neighboring Rezalia Kingdom, this imperial military base serves as a bulwark, halting the flow of magical beasts from the frontier into the central regions. It is manned by elite soldiers of the Imperial Magical Corps.

Known as the Cantare Eastern Army’s Third Division, Eighth Frontier Guard.

Led by Michael Judau, the captain revered and feared as 《Hundred Demons Leader》 by his troops, this frontier guard of roughly five hundred magical soldiers repeated daily combat against magical beasts and rigorous military training. In an empire long devoid of true warfare, they boasted exceptional discipline and combat experience, making them one of the finest battle-ready units.

Indeed, one of the finest units.

The reason it’s described in the past tense is simple—they no longer exist.

“What… are… what… are these things…!?”

Already fatally wounded and collapsed pathetically on the ground, Michael can only stare in despair and shock, his face frozen as he gazes blankly at the scene.

“This is it♪ This is it♪ The home of this country’s soldiers♪ Yup, yup, how fun♪”

“Is it? I find it utterly dull. I heard this place was filled with renowned warriors of the empire… but they break so easily with just a little nudge. Perhaps they lack what they call ‘karushium’?”

At the center are a girl and a giant man.

Corpses, corpses, corpses, corpses, corpses, a mountain of corpses…

The remnants of those hailed as the empire’s elite warriors now form a hellish scene.

Before this catastrophic vista, which seems like nothing more than a poorly crafted objet d’art.

“Damn it… how could… this happen…!? Annihilation…!? In less than ten minutes… my Eighth Frontier Guard… annihilated… no, it’s a lie… a nightmare…!”

As Michael laments a reality he can scarcely accept,

“Well, sorry… feels like we did something bad, huh…”

Beside him, unnoticed until now, stands a young man in a suit, looking apologetic.

“Let me make this clear… I tried to stop them, you know? There was no need to come through this place… I told them we could take a detour… I said it over and over until my mouth went sour.”

“Huh? Y-you… who are you…?”

“Oh, actually, the three of us are on our way to Fejite for some business, and we just happened to stop by here… but, you know, the western mountain path would’ve been a much shorter route. There was no need to take the long way through here… and now our journey’s delayed by half a day… ugh… what am I gonna tell Zayd? I’m in trouble…”

Michael falls silent, overwhelmed by the young man’s incomprehensible monologue.

Unfazed by Michael’s reaction, the young man continues calmly.

“But Glacia… that girl over there, she was like, ‘The mountain path hurts my feet, no way~’ and wouldn’t listen… and Seth, that big guy, was all, ‘I’m going to meet someone stronger than me,’ and wouldn’t listen either… ugh… babysitting a dim-witted kid and a musclehead is exhausting… don’t you kinda get where I’m coming from? You seem like the captain around here.”

“…”

What are these people talking about?

So, what? They came to this garrison base… just for a stroll?

This massacre was just something they did on a whim during their stroll?

And on that whim… the Eighth Frontier Guard, renowned even within the imperial army, was obliterated?

“…But now that I think about it… maybe this detour was worth it…?”

Suddenly, the young man’s demeanor shifts.

His cheerful, gentlemanly air transforms into a cold, snake-like expression.

“Wha…!?”

Before Michael can react,

Beside the young man, unnoticed until now, stands a colossal monster.

“Now, feast, my servant.”

As the young man snaps his fingers, the monster spreads its wings as if to cover the sky. From the mouths of the countless corpses piled up by the girl and the giant, souls begin to drift out, drawn toward the monster as if guided…

“No…!? A… aaah, aaaaah…!?”

The monster devours the souls greedily, one after another, ravenous.

Faced with this blasphemous, depraved spectacle that churns the stomach,

Michael can only tremble, eyes wide with terror and despair, tears streaming down his face.

“…Quite the fine quality of souls. Thanks to this, my pet’s training is progressing nicely. Truly, these are well-honed magical soldiers. You raised them with care, didn’t you? Excellent work, really. You’d probably do well in a grounded profession… like running a ranch or farming.”

The young man gently pats the trembling Michael’s shoulder.

“Now… I’d like to let my pet eat a bit more before we head to Fejite…”

“Ugh… aaah… s-stop… please, I beg…”

Unable to move, Michael’s body is seized by the monster’s mighty arm and hoisted into the air…

And then…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!?”

With a blood-curdling, banshee-like scream as the final curtain,

That day, the Rikian Seventh Garrison Base vanished completely from the map.

The day after Glenn was maneuvered into dancing to Eve’s schemes.

“…Ah, um…!? Sensei…!?”

After school, Rumia, led by the hand by Glenn, appeared in the courtyard of the academy.

“Come on, Rumia. Let’s practice dancing together, yeah?”

“B-but…”

“Sorry for being so selfish. But… if we’re doing this, I kinda wanna see you in your [Robe de la Fae] outfit… is that okay?”

“I-it’s not that it’s not okay… but… ah, au…”

Blushing, Rumia stares at their tightly clasped hands. Since yesterday, Glenn’s unusually forceful and proactive demeanor has completely thrown her off, leaving her at his mercy.

In the courtyard, other couples preparing for the social dance competition are practicing affectionately, while pitiful male students who want to join but haven’t found partners yet loiter about, searching for one.

“Oi… look at that…”

“Yeah… the rumor that Rumia-chan finally paired up for the dance competition… it was true…!?”

“Our holy angel… ughhh! I’m so jealous!”

“And it’s that idiot instructor again…!?”

“Instructor, you must die. No mercy.”

The sight of Glenn and Rumia appearing hand in hand draws immediate attention.

The sudden announcement of the renowned beauty, who had stubbornly refused all partners until now, joining the competition was nothing short of shocking news.

“Au…”

Under the envious gazes and the warmth of Glenn’s hand, Rumia can only shyly lower her eyes.

Meanwhile, basking in the attention, Glenn quietly reflects.

(…Right, this is good. If word spreads that Rumia and I are entering the competition as a couple… it’ll deter anyone trying to approach her on the day. That’ll make guarding her much easier. Sure, it’ll spark some weird rumors again… but I can’t worry about that now.)

That said… Glenn was more preoccupied with an urgent issue he needed to address.

That being—

“…So? Why are you tagging along…?”

“…No reason? I just thought I’d keep an eye on you.”

Glenn glances at Sistine, who’s following closely behind.

She stands with her arms crossed, looking more displeased than ever, glaring at Glenn with narrowed eyes. He can practically feel her gaze stabbing into his back.

Next to Sistine is Re=L, as usual, with sleepy, half-closed eyes. She tilts her head slightly, as if wondering what’s about to happen, following along like a chick trailing its mother hen.

“Hah? Keep an eye on us… why…?”

“Because you probably don’t even know the ‘s’ in social dance, right? If this keeps up, it’s obvious Rumia will be humiliated in front of everyone on the day of the competition… so I’m saying I’ll teach you the basics, at least. Be grateful.”

“For someone offering help, you sure seem grumpy… feels like I’m being watched…?”

“Hmph.”

Sistine, arms still crossed, pointedly turns away.

“Uh… oh, right! Speaking of, White Cat! Didn’t Professor Fossil recently publish a new paper on magical archaeology!?”

Desperate to lighten Sistine’s mood, Glenn awkwardly brings up a random topic.

“That one was pretty groundbreaking, right!? Why don’t you forget about us and head to the library to check it out? It’s about some graffiti-like mural that’s actually an ancient method of expressing musical pitch, which means the mural is—”

Thinking he can easily distract an archaeology nerd like Sistine with talk of magical archaeology, Glenn’s approach is blatantly dismissive, but…

“Already read it.”

“…Huh?”

“That paper. I already borrowed it from the academy’s library and read it.”

“…Oh, right.”

Completely rebuffed, Glenn sighs awkwardly.

“I’m… really sorry, Sistie… for everything… it’s my fault… I never imagined things would turn out like this right after saying that to you…”

“It’s not your fault, Rumia! I-I mean, the one at fault is this instructor trying to use you to make some pocket money!”

Sistine hurriedly comforts a deeply apologetic Rumia.

“Anyway! Sensei! I don’t care about your shady motives, but if you let Rumia be humiliated in front of everyone, you won’t get off easy! Got it!?”

(Yeesh… no wonder White Cat’s mad… her dear friend is being used as a pawn, after all… man, I always end up with the short end of the stick…)

Glenn can only half-glare at Sistine, who hisses at him like an angry cat, letting out a sigh.

“Listen, Sensei. The dance for this ‘Social Ball’ is the Sylph Waltz, numbers one through seven, okay? The most difficult number eight isn’t used due to the music chosen, so you’re safe there. It’s based on a traditional war dance of a certain nomadic tribe, refined elegantly for court use and perfected as—”

Sistine begins her explanation, left hand on her hip, right index finger raised.

Glenn, half-listening, lets his thoughts wander—

(The Sylph Waltz, huh… brings back memories…)

As Glenn’s mind drifts to the past—

“—Hey, Glenn-kun. Music and dance have a mysterious power, you know?”

That voice echoes in Glenn’s mind.

The memory of his late colleague, a white-haired girl from the Imperial Court Mage Corps’ Special Missions Annex, Executive Number 3, 《The Empress》, Sera Silvers, feels vivid. She always used to say things like that.

“Music and dance have the power to move the heart, and the heart is what sustains the body. Music sneaks quietly into the depths of a person’s soul without them noticing. So, if you master the path of music and dance, you can control people’s hearts and bodies freely—it’s that incredible, you know?”

Being from the nomadic tribes of Nanbara, Sera had a deep love for song, music, and dance, likely due to her roots, and she often spoke passionately about them—

“There’s even magic specialized in it. The art of appealing to people’s hearts through music and dance has a long history, dating back to our ancestors and even ancient civilizations—it’s a traditional form of magic, which makes it amazing, right? So…”

Since she always said the same things, Glenn, with calloused ears, would tune her out… until suddenly, Sera, mid-lecture, puffed out her cheeks—

“…Let’s practice more seriously, Glenn-kun!”

She started scolding Glenn, who was sprawled lazily on the ground.

“We’ve got an undercover mission at a social event soon, right!? You and I are supposed to play a young noble couple, right!? If you can’t dance properly, everyone will get suspicious!”

“Ugh, but it’s such a drag…”

Glenn glanced up at an exasperated Sera, finding her annoying.

“Besides, you’re only so pumped because the dance for this event is the Sylph Waltz, and you can dance it, right?”

“Hau…!”

His casual jab apparently hit the mark perfectly.

Sera’s authoritative air deflated just a little.

“Muu… you figured it out?”

“Yeah, kinda. The Sylph Waltz… it’s originally a war dance passed down through your tribe since ancient times, right?”

“Haha… yeah, that’s right… it just feels nostalgic…”

In truth, Sera was the daughter of the leader of the Silvers, a proud nomadic tribe of Nanbara, descended from ancient, noble blood—a highborn lady of a prominent clan, despite appearances.

Many of her clan were killed by the Rezalia Kingdom’s Temple Knights during their religious purges, and the survivors scattered across the land. Still, Sera fought on, dreaming of one day reuniting her people and returning to their homeland.

“The music and choreography have been heavily adapted for court dances… but still, the Sylph Waltz… no, the ‘Baile del Viento’… dancing it makes me happy…”

“Jeez… if you wanna dance, just dance whenever you feel like it…”

“Muu… you don’t get it. The ‘Baile del Viento’ is a sacred, special dance for communing with the great wind spirits… even as a war priestess, I can’t just dance it casually!”

“Is that how it works? I don’t really get it…”

“Yup. The ‘Baile del Viento’ has eight forms. The first through seventh dances—El Primal to El Septeimo—imbue warriors with the spirits’ courage, erase fear of death, numb pain, or amplify the joy of battle. They’re magical dances. The final eighth dance, El Octava, is a holy dance to purify the body of the magical blessings received, protecting the heart from the frenzy and madness of battle. Neglecting it turns you into a berserker who’s lost all reason…”

“Yeah, yeah, super fascinating trivia, totally irrelevant. Also, Nanbara language? Annoying.”

“Oh, right! While we practice the Sylph Waltz, I’ll teach you the ‘Baile del Viento,’ Glenn-kun! All of it!”

“What!? How’d we get there!?”

“Hehe… because the ‘Baile del Viento,’ like the Sylph Waltz, requires a partner. A unique partner to whom you entrust your body and soul, melting your hearts together…”

“No clue what you’re on about! Ugh, that sounds like such a hassle, no way—”

“Come on, stand up, Glenn-kun! Ehehe… first, take my arm like this, then your footwork goes… yup, yup, like that, and then spin like this…”

“Gah—!? Stop dragging me around—!? I’m getting dizzy—!? Slow down! Slow down—!”

“ARE YOU LISTENING!?”

Sistine’s angry shout yanks Glenn back to reality from his nostalgic reverie.

“—Oh, uh, what was that?”

“I was saying… how difficult the Sylph Waltz is! And now, follow the basic steps I just explained—”

“Oh, right, we’re at that part.”

Sistine bristles at Glenn’s utterly dismissive, half-hearted attitude.

“Muu… do you get it? The Sylph Waltz? It’s way harder than the Noble Waltz or Fast Step, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I’m going out of my way to teach a complete amateur like you for Rumia’s sake, so take it a little seriously—wait… what’s so funny?”

Sistine eyes Glenn suspiciously as he suddenly chuckles under his breath.

“Nah, just… this time, I might just get to put you in your place, you cheeky little know-it-all.”

“Hah?”

Sistine blinks, confused by Glenn’s odd comment.

“It’s fine, I’m telling you. No need to worry. The Sylph Waltz, right? If it’s just a student-level fun competition and not a proper dance contest, there’s no way I’d lose.”

Sistine, slightly irritated by Glenn’s inexplicable confidence, snaps back.

“Oh, you’re talking big! Fine, let’s see what you’ve got!”

She extends her hand toward Glenn.

It’s the formal gesture of requesting a dance partner in high society.

“Why don’t you try escorting me, then?”

“Tch… what a pain…”

Unable to back down, Glenn reluctantly agrees to dance with Sistine to prove his skill.

And so it goes.

“Sistie~ Sensei~ Ready? Here we go~!”

In a corner of the courtyard, Rumia operates a phonograph, placing a disc record and setting the needle.

From the horn atop the phonograph, the prelude to Sylphid Symphony No. 1, the music for the Sylph Waltz, begins to play.

The grand, elegant orchestral piece carries an exotic resonance.

The dance to match is, naturally, the Sylph Waltz Number One. Though the most basic of the eight forms, it’s still far from something an amateur could easily perform.

Sistine looks at Glenn standing before her.

Glenn, radiating complete disinterest, yawns lazily.

(Hmph, I’ll drag him around! Don’t blame me if you trip…!)

Smirking wickedly at Glenn’s lackadaisical demeanor, Sistine is confident in her dancing. She’s been practicing since childhood and has even attended social events.

(I’m always getting one-upped by Sensei… but this time, I’ll win!)

By now, Sistine herself isn’t entirely sure what she’s trying to achieve.

Originally, she was the one who encouraged Rumia to dance with Glenn, and the current situation is exactly as planned. At one point, swept up by Rumia’s enthusiasm, she considered asking Glenn to be her partner but was preempted. Still, it shouldn’t have mattered who her partner was.

Rumia keeps apologizing profusely for “stealing” Glenn, but to Sistine, it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Yet, when she imagines Glenn and Rumia practicing dance together happily until the ball or dancing affectionately at the event itself…

For some reason, she can’t help but want to meddle. She doesn’t quite understand why.

Well, whatever.

This instructor is usually such a mess. It’s about time someone knocked him down a peg.

(Let’s see what you’ve got, Sensei♪)

The prelude ends—Sistine performs a refined, elegant courtesy, while Glenn gives a half-hearted, unmotivated bow. They step toward each other, take hands—

And with the music, the dance begins—

In that instant.

“—!?”

Sistine’s body is suddenly pulled roughly toward Glenn.

His earlier lethargy is nowhere to be seen.

“…Here we go.”

Leading the flustered Sistine with confidence, Glenn begins to step—

And his entire body comes alive, dancing with vibrant energy.

“Wha—”

Sistine’s body is tugged along forcefully.

It’s like being caught in a powerful whirlpool, an intense escort.

Unorthodox counts with chassés, quick steps with sharp dynamics, spins like a storm.

Impossible angles of sway, a jarring shift in perspective.

The wild tapping rhythm resonates with her heartbeat—

A sudden heel turn sends Sistine’s body spinning—

“W-wait… Sensei… hold on…”

Out of breath, Sistine tries to pull away, but Glenn’s firm hold keeps her trapped. She’s at the mercy of his dance.

The rise-and-fall sways blur her vision, clouding her consciousness—

A reverse roll and rough across nearly trip her up—

But Glenn supports her, catching her body boldly and strongly.

And the dance continues—hot, passionate, endlessly fervent—

Rumia watches, eyes wide, holding her breath, as Glenn and Sistine dance…

“Oi… look at that…”

“Unbelievable…!? What the heck is that…!?”

The other students practicing their dances nearby began to turn their attention to Glenn and the others, one after another.

“That… is that really the Sylph Waltz…?”

“Well, the choreography is technically the Sylph Waltz… though it’s oddly rough around the edges…”

“It’s not exactly elegant… but it’s like it’s bursting with passion…!?”

“What… what is this…!? It’s so captivating…!?”

Glenn’s dance, wildly swinging Sistine around, appeared chaotic at first glance, but it overflowed with a unique ethnic flair and untamed vitality absent from the refined, elegant court dances.

(What is this…? I’ve never seen a Sylph Waltz like this…!?)

Sistine, the one being spun around, was hardly enjoying herself.

(It’s intense! I can’t breathe! My head’s spinning! My blood… my body’s burning…! My soul’s trembling…! I can’t help but feel exhilarated…!?)

She desperately wanted to stop this unconventional dance, to make it stop… but she couldn’t.

All she had to do was shout “Stop!” and push him away… but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Somehow, she found herself wanting to surrender her body and heart to Glenn, to let him carry her wherever this dance would lead.

(…What is this…!? How can this be…!?)

Under the spell of Glenn’s passionate dance, Sistine’s thoughts grew hazy, as if consumed by a fever. Sweat glistened like scattered jewels…

As the music neared its end… before the stunned students…

Thud!

The dance concluded with a powerful, decisive finish.

“Haa… haa… haa…”

Her heart pounded, her skin flushed, her breaths hot. Enveloped in a strangely pleasant exhaustion and exhilaration…

Sistine, still in the final pose, leaned against Glenn with a dreamy, entranced expression, unable to do anything but surrender herself to him.

Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap-clap—!

Gradually, spontaneous applause erupted from the surrounding students…

“Heh, how’s that? I’m pretty good, right?”

Glenn’s smug whisper in her ear…

“~~~~ !?”

Finally snapping back to reality, Sistine hurriedly leapt away from Glenn.

Her entire body felt hot and tingly. In the moment she pulled away, she realized—beyond any denial—that a part of her heart didn’t want to leave Glenn’s side, making her blush all the way to her ears.

“I had a colleague back in the day who was a real stickler for dancing. Thanks to her drilling me, I’m kinda confident in my moves. Surprising, huh?”

Glenn seized the moment to bask in his triumph, grinning smugly.

Sistine couldn’t muster a single retort.

“That colleague of yours… could they be from Nanbara, by any chance?”

Rumia tilted her head slightly, posing the question to Glenn.

“Hm? How’d you guess, Rumia?”

“Well, your dance, Sensei… it felt less like a noble’s dance and more like its origin… something akin to the traditional folk dances of Nanbara’s nomadic tribes.”

“Bingo! The Sylph Waltz is a simplified version of a certain tribe’s spiritual dance, ‘Baile del Viento’—the Dance of the Great Wind Spirit—adapted for noble entertainment. Having been forced to learn the full ‘Baile del Viento’, the Sylph Waltz is so easy it makes me yawn.”

“Ugh, ugh…”

Sistine could only tremble with frustration, her fists and shoulders shaking.

Meanwhile, Re=L, who had been staring intently at Glenn and Sistine…

“Hm. Glenn, you’re totally lame. Too soft. I’ll be your partner.”

Not to be outdone, she latched onto Glenn.

“Oh, you’re on, Re=L? I didn’t expect you to know how to dance, but… heh, let’s see if you can keep up with my moves—wha—!? Gwaaahhh!?”

But Re=L, apparently mistaking the dance for a sparring match, grabbed Glenn’s hand and flung his body through the air with a dramatic toss.

“Eek, Sensei!? H-Hey, stop it, Re=L! You can’t just throw him!”

“…I got it wrong?”

As usual, Glenn and the others descended into their typical chaotic commotion.

Meanwhile—

“Wow… looks like a formidable frontrunner for the championship just showed up…”

“Tch… we can’t let them beat us! Practice makes perfect!”

“That’s right! I swore to make my beloved wear the [Robe de la Fae]!”

The couples already paired up among the onlookers burned with rivalry toward Glenn…

““““Instructor, you must perish. No mercy.””””

While those still without partners hurled curses at Glenn.

“Ow, ow, ow… damn it, Re=L… ugh, whatever. Let’s get to practicing, Rumia.”

“Um… y-yes! But… if you go all out, I definitely won’t be able to keep up, so please go a bit easier on me, okay?”

“Leave it to me. Even I thought that last one was a bit much.”

And so, Glenn and Rumia joined hands and began their dance practice.

Glenn’s movements retained their passionate wildness, but this time he toned it down, showing some consideration for his partner.

Rumia, initially thrown off by Glenn’s unorthodox style, quickly caught his rhythm and began matching his steps.

““““Ooooh…!””””

Instantly, gasps of admiration rose from the crowd.

As expected of someone from a former royal lineage, Rumia’s dancing skills were impressive.

She gracefully complemented Glenn’s bold, assertive movements, subtly enhancing their wild charm with delicate footwork and choreography. Her elegance and refinement filled the gaps in Glenn’s passionate dance, creating a partnership that could only be described as perfectly harmonious.

They were, without a doubt, an exceptionally compatible pair.

“…Looks fun. Dancing? …I don’t really get it, but it seems nice.”

Re=L muttered softly, standing beside…

Sistine, who watched Glenn and Rumia’s dance with an indescribable feeling.

Somehow, she had an intuitive realization.

(…They’re probably going to win, aren’t they? Sensei and Rumia…)

No other student-level couple could possibly reach their level in this competition.

If so, Glenn and Rumia would likely win… and this year, Rumia would don the [Robe de la Fae]… and dance with Glenn at the end. Probably with joy, with happiness.

(It’s not a big deal… Rumia admires Sensei, too… and I was the one who encouraged her to dance with him in the first place… but, what is this…? This… uneasy feeling…)

As Sistine grappled with an inexplicable sense of discontent…

“…Sistine, you seem down. …What’s wrong?”

Re=L’s sleepy voice broke through, catching her attention.

“Oh.”

A spark of inspiration flashed through Sistine’s mind.

“That’s it, Re=L… hey, how about we surprise Sensei and the others a little?”

“…?”

…That midnight.

Glenn had secretly made his way to a certain location in Fejite—the warehouse district on the outskirts of the southern quarter.

Honestly, he wasn’t thrilled about it, but he had no choice.

(…This should be the designated spot…)

Moving stealthily to avoid attention, Glenn stopped in front of one of the many wooden warehouses.

He drew three lock runes on the warehouse door with his own blood.

With a creak like dry wood groaning, the door swung open on its own, and Glenn slipped through the gap.

Ignoring the door closing automatically behind him, Glenn advanced deeper into the cramped warehouse, navigating between stacks of wooden crates. The dry sound of his boot soles tapping the floor echoed faintly.

At the back of the warehouse, a small room-like space was partitioned off by stacked crates, where several figures already awaited. Illuminated by the flickering light of a lantern, they emerged from the darkness—

“Hey! Glenn-boy!”

One of them—an elderly man, yet impressively burly with broad shoulders and rippling muscles, brimming with youthful vigor—raised a hand and grinned broadly at Glenn. His dignified features carried an air of authority, but his smile had the mischievous charm of a playful boy.

“Been a while, hasn’t it!? You holdin’ up okay!? Huh!?”

“…Old man… Bernard《The Hermit》… ugh, you’re the same as ever, aren’t you?”

Glenn responded awkwardly to the old man.

Clad in the ceremonial robes of a mage, the elderly man was Bernard Jester, Executive Officer Number 9《The Hermit》of the Imperial Court Mage Corps’ Special Missions Annex. A veteran mage and seasoned warrior, he was one of the most eccentric figures in the Corps and had been Glenn’s mentor in combat during his military days.

“Glad to see you in good health, Glenn-senpai.”

Another figure—a boy perched atop a stack of crates—offered a faint smile. His calm demeanor and striking beauty were distinctive, with an air of maturity in his insightful eyes and expression that belied his youth. He was only a year or two older than Glenn’s students.

“Christoph… you’re here too, huh?”

Like Bernard, he was Christoph Fraul, Executive Officer Number 5《The Hierophant》of the Special Missions Annex. A young mage renowned for his unparalleled mastery of barrier magic within the Imperial Court Mage Corps.

“…Glenn. You’re late.”

Then, seated on the floor, hugging her knees and dressed in mage robes, was Re=L《The Chariot》.

“…”

Leaning against the right wall with arms crossed, silently meditating, was Albert《The Star》.

These were the comrades Glenn had worked closely with during his time as Executive Officer Number 0《The Fool》in the Special Missions Annex, now gathered in this warehouse.

Facing this reunion of former colleagues, Glenn hesitated, unsure of what to say…

“…Senpai, I’m truly sorry about this incident.”

Christoph was the first to speak, his tone apologetic.

“Yeah, sorry, Glenn-boy. We never imagined the higher-ups would push such a reckless plan. Honestly, what’s the military brass even thinking…?”

Bernard, too, grimaced uncomfortably.

“And to drag you, someone who’s no longer in the military, back in under a special provision… you must be furious, Senpai. But right now, the other members of the Special Missions Annex are tied up with critical missions. We’re shorthanded.”

“This time, we really need your help. I’m begging you, please!”

At Christoph and Bernard’s words, Glenn’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You guys… aren’t mad at me for deserting the military…?”

For a moment, Bernard and Christoph fell silent at Glenn’s question.

“…Well, from what I hear, Al-boy already settled that score for us, didn’t he?”

Bernard grinned, tapping his chin with his fist.

“If I had to say… sure, you went through some tough times, and being so young, maybe you had no choice in some things… but I wish you’d at least griped to us once before bottling it all up and breaking.”

Christoph chimed in.

“Some in the Special Missions Annex still badmouth you, Senpai. To be honest, I’m not entirely without my own complaints about you.”

Despite his words, Christoph’s expression remained calm.

“But even so, you’re… someone who fought through countless battles alongside us. You threw yourself into protecting others more than anyone. I believe in that Senpai.”

“…I see… uh… I’m really sorry…”

Facing these former comrades who still spoke so kindly despite his worst actions, Glenn couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of guilt.

“Now, enough reminiscing. Let’s get to business.”

Eve《The Magician》, seated at the head of the table in the back, clapped her hands to refocus the group, having observed their exchange like a spectator.

“…What are we doing, Eve?”

Re=L, who apparently hadn’t been told anything until now, mumbled softly.

“Hehe, don’t worry, Re=L. You don’t need to think about anything. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained, so just do as I say… got it?”

“…Mm. Got it. I’ll do what Eve says.”

Ignoring Glenn’s apparent urge to protest, Eve took charge, and the meeting began.

It was a strategy meeting for the mission to protect Rumia during the upcoming social ball at the Alzano Imperial Magic Academy.

“Let’s begin. First, a review of the mission outline. In short, our objective is to thwart an enemy organization’s plot to assassinate the princess during the social ball the day after tomorrow, and to capture their ringleader alive—that’s all.”

The more he heard, the more absurd the plan seemed.

The reckless demands of the military higher-ups and Eve were unchanged from his days in service, but this time, they were exceptionally egregious.

“Any questions so far?”

“A ton. What if they resort to suicide bombings, kamikaze attacks, or indiscriminate slaughter? No matter how you slice it, we can’t protect against that. I propose leaking this to the academy and canceling the ball.”

Glenn immediately bit back.

“…It’s fine.”

But Eve dismissed him with confidence.

“Why’s that?”

“The enemy is fixated on ‘assassination’ this time. This incident isn’t the will of their entire organization, but the reckless action of a small ‘radical faction.’ If the perpetrators are exposed through overt killing methods, the entire radical faction would face purge for defying the organization’s will—it’d be pointless. The deed must be done covertly, without leaving evidence.”

“…So they’re obsessed with ‘assassination,’ huh?”

“Since the ringleader is a mage from the Second Order《Adeptus Order》, the inner circle, that’s absolute. Exceptionally, they can’t harm unrelated people. That’s why we can turn the tables and use the academy as our fishing pond without hesitation. Feeling better, Glenn?”

Eve’s provocative tone made Glenn’s temple twitch.

The air between Eve and Glenn grew tense.

“…What’s the enemy’s strength?”

“Based on my intelligence, one member of the《Adeptus Order》and three from the First Order《Portals Order》—a total of four. With our six, we’re more than equipped to handle them.”

“…You sure there’s no mistake?”

“Oh? Has my intelligence ever been wrong?”

“…”

Glenn could only fall silent.

“Seems you’re convinced. Naturally, the one to watch out for is the《Adeptus Order》—the ringleader, a depraved mage. Their alias and name are known, and I’m sure you’re all familiar… Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》. That’s our enemy.”

In that instant, Glenn’s eyes widened, Albert’s expression sharpened, and Bernard groaned.

“No way… that 《Demon’s Right Hand》 is coming? Yeesh, what a pain…”

“Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》… as expected, notoriously infamous. Specializing in assassinations, he’s a depraved mage who eliminates targets unnoticed at parades, speeches, or parties, right in front of countless people. His direct killing methods vary—stabbing, strangling, bludgeoning—never consistent. Numerous imperial officials have been killed by 《Demon’s Right Hand》, despite every possible guard and security measure.”

“…!”

“His assassination methods remain shrouded in mystery… but that’s no issue. Because this time, I’m here.”

With that, Eve chanted a spell and raised her left hand before the group.

A flame ignited in her hand.

“Family Secret Spell [Ira’s Flame]. A detection magic that visualizes and identifies negative human emotions—especially murderous intent and malice—as flickers of flame within a designated area. No human in this world can act to harm another without harboring some degree of murderous intent or malice. No matter how mechanical or skilled an assassin is at suppressing their killing intent, in the breath before they strike, a sliver as fine as a hair will leak out… and my flame never misses it. If human emotions are merely products of biochemical reactions in the body… then they fall under my domain of controlling heat.”

“…”

“I’ll combine this spell with my Family Secret Spell [Seventh Garden] and deploy it across the venue in advance. The moment the perpetrator harbors murderous intent toward the princess to assassinate her, my flame will instantly and reliably neutralize them—without killing.”

“Tch… can you really pull that off?”

Glenn threw out a skeptical remark… but he already knew.

If it was Eve Ignite, she probably could.

In fact, during Glenn’s military days, Eve had used her Family Secret Spells to foil multiple assassination attempts by depraved mages from the Researchers of Heavenly Wisdom targeting government officials.

Within the domain of her Family Secret Spells, Eve was virtually invincible. The ultimate mage.

Knowing this, Glenn’s expression soured, and Eve flashed a delighted, smug smile.

“My [Ira’s Flame] and [Seventh Garden] will cover the entire social ball venue.”

“So you’re saying as long as Rumia stays in the venue, she’s practically untouchable?”

“Yes, exactly. But the enemy isn’t stupid. They likely know I’m involved and have prepared countermeasures. ‘Assassination is impossible while the princess is within my domain’… so they’ll undoubtedly set up some ploy to force the princess outside the venue’s range… which is why…”

From there, Eve calmly laid out the interception strategy she had devised.

Pointing at the venue’s floor plan on the table, she outlined predicted enemy approaches, countermeasures for every possible scenario, and issued orders to the gathered members.

For starters, Rumia would be placed entirely under the protection of Eve’s Family Secret Spells to ensure her safety.

Additionally, as a precaution, Glenn and Re=L would stay close to Rumia within the venue, ready for any contingencies.

External threats would be handled by Albert, Bernard, and Christoph.

“Man, as impressive as ever, Eve-chan.”

“Yes, with this… we can maximize the princess’s safety while efficiently neutralizing the enemy.”

As Eve’s explanation concluded, Bernard and Christoph let out awed sighs.

“…What do you think, Glenn? You always yap about avoiding collateral damage like a broken record, but… it’s pretty simple, isn’t it? Knowing they’re limited to ‘assassination’ makes it surprisingly easy to counter.”

“…”

Glenn could only clench his jaw in frustration.

“‘If you don’t enter the tiger’s den, you won’t catch its cub’… an Eastern proverb. Our fight has reached a stage where we can’t shy away from such risks. Don’t forget that.”

Glenn couldn’t argue with Eve. She was, in fact, absolutely right.

Eve, Albert, Bernard, Christoph, Re=L… and, well, Glenn. For an enemy force of just four to breach this lineup and attempt to ‘assassinate’ Rumia would be sheer madness.

It was impossible. Glenn’s calm rationality told him so.

Faced with such a flawless interception strategy, the military higher-ups, desperate for any intel on the enemy organization, would push it forward aggressively. Even Her Majesty the Queen would have to agree. The nation’s highest authority couldn’t afford to show weakness against a defeatable enemy.

(But what’s this unease? What is it? Are we missing something…?)

Despite Eve’s boast of perfection, Glenn felt a faint but persistent unease.

He leaned on the table, staring intently at the floor plan, the interception layout, and the predicted enemy attack routes.

The exact assassination methods of Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》were unknown, but Eve’s spells were airtight. The numbers were in their favor, too. Since Glenn couldn’t point out any flaws or contradictions in the plan, it would proceed without a hitch.

(…Damn it!)

As Glenn ground his teeth in frustration…

“…I understand your unease.”

Albert, who had been silently leaning against the wall with arms crossed, finally spoke.

“But the die is cast. It’s not what you wanted, but there’s no turning back now. All we can do is seize the best possible outcome. I promise you this: I won’t settle for easy compromises. I’ll do everything in my power to protect what you hold dear. Even if it costs me my life.”

“Albert… you…?”

Stunned by the unexpected words from a comrade he’d never quite liked, Glenn froze for a moment…

Then, shaking off the faint sense of reliability he felt, he turned away brusquely.

“Tch… you really think you’ve got the right to say that now, huh?”

“…Nothing.”

“If you get it, I don’t need your excuses. Just do your best and step up. …But remember this, if anything happens to Rumia or the academy folks? You’re next after Eve.”

“Fine by me. Do whatever you want then.”

Trading barbs like they were one step away from throwing punches,

Glenn and Albert turned their backs on each other, as if they were sworn enemies who could never coexist.

Bernard and Christoph, watching the two, exchanged wry smiles and shrugged, while a sleepy Re=L nodded off, her head bobbing gently…

The night of the strategy meeting grew late.

Meanwhile—in a certain place in Fejite, deep within a dimly lit underground crypt,

Members of The Researchers of Heavenly Wisdom, who had secretly infiltrated Fejite in preparation for the social ball two days hence, were gathered.

“…Hey, can we really pull off this ‘assassination,’ Zayd? With a plan like this?”

“Of course we can. …If you follow my instructions exactly.”

“Hmph… What a bizarre technique. I still don’t quite get it.”

“You won’t believe it ♪ until you see it with your own eyes ♪ I’m sure ♪ I’m sure ♪ everyone feels that way ☆ Zayd-san’s assassination technique is special, you see~ ♪ giggle giggle giggle … ♪”

“Now that I think about it… is this really what you’d call an ‘assassination’…?”

The four dark shadows discussed their plan to assassinate Rumia, each voicing their thoughts.

“But still, Eve《The Magician》… the more I hear, the trickier that Family Secret Spell of hers sounds. It’s like she’s an ‘assassin killer.’ Can we really get past her…?”

“Naturally. There’s a way to outsmart Eve《The Magician》. After all, we have—”

At that very moment—

“…Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》 could never outmaneuver me.”

Having finished the strategy meeting, Eve muttered to herself as she walked alone through the deserted warehouse district.

“They’ve done a good job disguising their information… but, heh, too bad. I see through it all.”

In truth… Eve held information she hadn’t shared with Albert and the others.

That being—

“Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》. There’s someone else behind you… Yes, I’ve seen through it.”

“…That said, knowing Eve《The Magician》, she’s likely already aware of me, Zayd《Demon’s Right Hand》… and the true mastermind lurking behind me…”

“…Since I’ve already figured it out, there’s no way they can outsmart me.”

“…Because she’s figured it out, she’ll never reach us.”

“…I don’t need Albert and his group’s help. I’ll definitely grab the tail of the true mastermind pulling the strings behind this… all for the Ignite family. With the Ignite family’s power.”

“…No matter how great the Ignite family is… not even Eve《The Magician》 can reach the one pulling the strings behind me. Never.”

—Curiously, two individuals from opposing factions, in different places but at the exact same moment, held the exact same conviction… and murmured thus.

“This battle… the victory belongs to us, the Imperial Court Mage Corps.”

“This battle… the victory belongs to us, The Researchers of Heavenly Wisdom.”