Part 17: Substitute Teacher (1)

“Gasp!”

Elysia opened her eyes, waking violently as though drawing breath after being unable to breathe.

“Where...?”

She looked around. A hospital room.

What had happened? Hadn’t she died? Or was this simply what the afterlife looked like?

Just as those questions arose, the door creaked open.

“You’re awake.”

It was her younger sister, Sale. Her expression was composed, as though she had already heard the whole story.

Elysia asked, “... How am I alive?”

“Who knows? I’m not the person to ask, am I?”

True enough.

Elysia sensed an odd chill in Sale’s manner.

Changing the water in the vase beside Elysia’s bed, Sale asked, “How are you feeling?”

“... Fine. Unbelievably so.”

“That’s good. You should be.”

Having changed the water, Sale paused, both hands still holding the vase.

“After all, today is your last day as an imperial princess.”

“...”

So that was it.

Was that why Sale was being so cold?

“Why did you do it?”

“...”

A blunt question. Elysia had nothing to say, so she kept her mouth shut.

Sale’s gaze darkened further.

“Do you know who’s inheriting the throne now?”

“... Who?”

“Me.”

“...”

“You idiot. Why go to all that trouble, only for it to end like this? If you wanted to be empress... all you had to do was wait. Why?”

Like Elysia, Sale was an ordinary person. By popular estimation, her political abilities were inferior to Elysia’s.

If even Sale could inherit the throne, then the position had originally been as good as promised to Elysia. That was what Sale was trying to tell her, but...

“... Even so, I would still have done it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust Father.”

The emperor, Bartello Terst.

Elysia could accept Sale inheriting the throne. After all, she had failed.

To make Elysia regret her actions, to quell the people’s suspicions, he would put Sale on the throne rather than Aten or Rodrick.

Bartello was quite capable of that.

He had never intended to give Elysia the throne. As far as she was concerned, that was the truth.

“No,” Sale said. “It wasn’t Father you couldn’t trust. It was yourself.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe.

Maybe that was why she had spent her entire life in doubt.

[“Elysia. Of all my children, you take after me the most. That worries me as your mother.”]

Something Philly had once told her. Now she understood.

Elysia had inherited the most of Philly’s calculating mind, political acumen, and suspicious nature. And though she hated to admit it, she had inherited something of her mean streak, too.

Aten, by contrast, had inherited Philly’s magical talent, the power of her bloodline, and her goodness.

Daughters born of the gray Philly. Black and white.

Seen in that light...

‘... Perhaps.’

“Perhaps you were the right person to take the throne, Sale.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll be able to manage both.”

Sale furrowed her brow at the incomprehensible remark.

“... Anyway, are you all right with this? At this rate, you’ll become a commoner after serving time in prison. You might spend the rest of your life with people pointing fingers at you.”

“I’m not all right with it, but that’s my burden to bear. I was supposed to die, after all.”

She was supposed to die.

... Come to think of it, how was she alive?

Frondier had said the dagger he gave Philly contained a deadly poison.

And in fact, the moment it had pricked her, she had lost all sensation and passed out.

“So who was it, in the end?”

“Who?”

“The person who ruined your plan. I saw the scene. The wound on that chimera... There aren’t many people capable of that.”

“... Mother didn’t tell you?”

Sale shook her head.

So that was it. She had kept Frondier’s involvement hidden.

That had been Philly’s strategy. And Elysia had fallen for it completely. Her own plan had failed precisely because she hadn’t known how powerful Frondier was.

Frondier had cut down the chimera with a single stroke. Of course, he had wounded it in their earlier fight, but he had been beating it single-handedly to begin with.

As an amalgamation of all manner of monsters, the chimera had exceptional physical abilities but abysmally low intelligence. Without the foundation of a species of its own, it was far inferior in stature.

But its skin was unmistakably a dragon’s. Ordinary attacks shouldn’t have left so much as a scratch. Yet he had slashed through almost its entire left side.

‘... Someone like that is a first-year at Constel...’

Did Constel have any idea what sort of monster it was raising?

* * *

[Main Quest ‘Attack’ Complete.]

- No Named Characters lost.

The Main Quest was finally complete.

After checking my smartwatch in my room, I clenched both fists in elation.

It might have looked strange to anyone else, but getting through without a single Named Character dying was worth celebrating.

Even as a player—in other words, as Aster—I had only managed it a handful of times.

Besides, not only had I saved the Named Characters this time, but casualties among ordinary people were lower than in any of my playthroughs. Of course I was this happy.

[Check Quest Reward]

[Quest rewards vary according to the number of Named Characters lost.]

[Characters lost: 0.]

[Highest-grade reward confirmed. A reward of the appropriate grade will be tailored to your current character.]

In Etius, even when playing as Aster, his growth could take all sorts of directions.

Unexpected events could trigger, and even when players knew about them, they wouldn’t handle them in exactly the same way.

Add each player’s preferences to the mix, and the same Aster could develop entirely different strengths as he grew.

That was why the rewards were always tailored to the character.

‘Then what’s the highest-grade reward that suits me right now?’

The highest-grade reward for Frondier, not even Aster.

I had gotten fairly strong, and I had a Unique Grade skill called Weaving, so surely it wouldn’t give me anything weird—

[Skill ‘Analysis’ acquired]

[Analysis]

? Grade: Unique

? Description: Analyzes a target. Once analysis is complete, all information about the target can be viewed, and, where necessary, internalized.

“... Huh?”

I had acquired a skill.

Reading the description, it was simply restating the skill’s name.

... What was I supposed to do with analysis?

I clutched my head. I had hoped for a skill that would at least help in combat. Or perhaps magic that worked against monsters.

Starting with Weaving, why was everything Frondier got like this?

“... No. Weaving is the reason I’ve survived this long.”

Weaving, which I had dismissed as a garbage skill, was now an indispensable part of my arsenal.

This Analysis skill had to be just as valuable. If I used it well. If I really put my mind to it.

... Analysis, huh.

“Should I try analyzing Weaving?”

I had spoken without thinking, simply following my train of thought. But now that I’d said it, it wasn’t a bad idea. I had always wondered what Weaving really was, and I hadn’t found anything useful in the library.

I didn’t know whether it would work, but trying would tell me.

Analysis

Target: Skill ‘Weaving’

Begin Analysis

I tried using Analysis on Weaving, but nothing much changed.

Just as I began wondering whether it had failed, a thought struck me, and I checked my smartwatch.

[Analyzing skill ‘Weaving.’ ...1% complete.]

... Apparently, this was going to take quite a while.

At this rate, it probably wouldn’t finish for several days.

* * *

Then came another morning of school at Constel.

I had braced myself.

On the day I fought Elysia and her chimera, I hadn’t gone to Constel at all.

That meant some people, including teachers, would know I hadn’t been there during the attack.

“Typical Human Sloth.” “Did you run away because you’re a coward?” “How did you know the monsters would attack?” “Were you in on it?” And so on.

I would have to endure those reasonable but vicious misunderstandings.

Having steeled myself for all that, I opened the classroom door.

“...”

“...”

I could definitely feel everyone’s eyes on me. Here it came, the jeering that would cut like knives...

“...”

“...”

But the jeers never came.

The looks they gave me were a little different from what I’d expected, too. Wary, suspicious, or even slightly frightened.

What was this? This wasn’t what I’d imagined.

“Frondier.”

Just then, Aten approached. She whispered in an unusually quiet voice.

“This way.”

“Oh, sure.”

I took my usual seat, and Aten sat beside me. Her voice reached my ears with a peculiar timbre.

I could sense magic. She seemed to have done something to ensure that only I could hear her.

“About the attack. No one saw you there.”

“Right.”

As expected, Aten knew too. Then everyone else must know.

So why were they looking at me like that?

“So people are wondering whether you were the one who did... that.”

“Did what?”

“The, um, ‘fireworks.’”

“Fireworks?”

“They’re saying fireworks exploded over the fleeing monsters, and every monster underneath them died.”

... Chryselakatos. And Iocheira.

“Why do they think I did it?”

That was strange. I was none other than Frondier, the proud Human Sloth.

Surely I couldn’t possibly pull off anything that impressive?

“For one thing, you weren’t there when we were holding off the monsters. And then there’s the training-room record you broke.”

“Oh.”

“The 3.14-second record in the private training room’s Target Practice. People are saying those fireworks could have made it possible.”

... Excellent deduction. And entirely correct.

Constel’s students were too smart for my own good.

This was the problem with sharp kids.

Just then, the bell rang. My next class was Basic Combat Skills. I had to get to the gym.

“I’ll get going, then. Enjoy your class.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aten was a mage, and I was a warrior.

So even though we were in the same homeroom, we often attended different lessons depending on the subject.

After parting with Aten, I thought as I walked.

What should I do? I needed something to distract the students.

Nothing good would come of Constel’s students constantly talking about me.

I was Frondier, the Human Sloth. Keeping that position forever was...

I continued agonizing over it even after reaching the gym, but no answer came to mind.

Meanwhile, someone entered.

In that instant, my worries became utterly meaningless. Even the students who had been stealing glances at me in the gym fixed their eyes on the man who had just arrived.

I had briefly forgotten what my first lesson was. No, I had forgotten what that lesson would mean from now on.

“Good to meet you.”

The man standing at the lectern offered an exceedingly brief greeting. Brevity suited him perfectly.

“Circumstances have made it impossible for Mr. Ales to remain at Constel.”

That was right.

Now that Ales, Elysia’s accomplice, had been expelled from Constel, the position of Basic Combat Skills instructor was vacant.

And the man filling that vacancy was none other than...

“I am Atzier de Roach, your substitute teacher.”

My older brother, Atzier.