Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 2 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

Broom Ride 

It was oddly difficult to sleep that night. His dreams, especially, were out of the ordinary. He was submerged up to his shoulders in lukewarm mud. His limbs felt heavy, and he could hardly move—in fact, it was difficult to tell where his body stopped and the mud began. He couldn’t even comprehend his own form. 

Bubbles rose and popped on the surface of the muddy swamp. The swamp seemed to be slowly heating up from the bottom, as if there were a fire beneath him. The moment the boy realized this, he panicked and began desperately struggling. Senses dulled, he tried to claw his way out but couldn’t escape. Heat stung at his feet before gradually rising through his body, and yet the discomfort was helping to make his own form clearer, little by little… 

“Wah!” 

The moment the heat became too much for his body to bear, Pete Reston jolted up in his bed. 

“Pant, pant, pant… What was that dream…?” he wondered aloud in the dark room, his breath ragged. At the same time, he became aware of how hot his body was, like he’d just finished sprinting for his life. His damp sheets clung uncomfortably to his skin. He frowned. “Damn, I’m so sweaty. I need to change…” 

His dresser was next to his bed. He reached out for it, then sensed something was off and froze. He couldn’t place it specifically, but moving his body felt strange. Most of all—there was one part of his body he could hardly even feel. 

“…?” 

Puzzled, he looked down, removed his blanket with one hand, and came face-to-face with it. 

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH?!” 

His scream shattered the early-morning quiet. Oliver’s eyes flew open. 

“What is it, Pete?!” 

Oliver snatched his athame from the bedside table and jumped out of bed, instantly preparing himself for battle. He looked toward his roommate to see that Pete had his blanket pulled up all the way to his neck, his face beet-red. 

“It— It’s nothing! Nothing, okay? St-stay away!” Pete shouted as Oliver instinctively approached. Confused by the sudden rebuke, Oliver cocked his head. 

“…? You screamed way too loudly for it to be nothing. If something’s wrong, just tell me—” 

“It’s fine! Back! Stay back! Don’t come near me!” 

Pete’s tone became more and more belligerent until he eventually began tossing anything within reach. Oliver, sensing his roommate was half-crazed with panic, raised his hands in an attempt to pacify him. 

“Calm down, Pete! I’m not gonna do anything to you! Let’s just talk— Gwah!” 

Before his efforts could bear fruit, however, an alarm clock sailed through the air and smashed into his nose. 

“Good morning, boys… Huh?” 

The girls were already eating breakfast in the cafeteria. Katie was the first one to notice something was up with the three boys as they arrived ten minutes late. Oliver and Guy shared awkward looks as Pete stood unnaturally far away from the two of them. 

“D-did you three have a fight? This all feels kind of uncomfortable…” 

“Nah, me and Oliver are fine. It’s this guy—” 

“Wah! D-don’t touch me!” 

Guy reached out to smack Pete’s shoulder, only for Pete to recoil from his friend’s hand. Guy sighed and sat down. 

“…As you can see, he’s suddenly hit his rebellious phase. We asked what was wrong, but he just insists it’s ‘nothing.’ What d’you all think?” 

“Hmm? Pete, you don’t seem to be sick…” 

“Wh-wh-whoa!” 

Chela stood up and began to walk over to Pete, but he reflexively jumped back. The ringlet-haired girl slumped in disappointment. 

“So I’m not allowed near you, either? …Oh, how lonely it is to be rejected by a friend!” Chela lamented, looking at the ground dejectedly. 

“I-it’s not what you think…!” Pete stuttered, flustered. 

After watching them for a bit, Katie stopped eating her breakfast and spoke up. 

“I’ll bet this was Guy’s fault. Pete, you can confide in me. Don’t worry.” 

“Why am I the suspect? Oliver’s his roommate. That’s pretty rich of you, acting like some big sister. All I see is a little shrimp.” 

Sparks flew as they glared at each other until each of them picked up a piece of cutlery and began clashing for real. Chela grinned at their shenanigans as Oliver sat down next to the Azian girl. 

“Morning, Nanao. You have any ideas about what’s eating Pete?” 

“Good morning, Oliver. Unfortunately, I haven’t a clue. But he does seem different today,” she answered honestly. 

Pete, unable to bear all the attention, turned on his heel without ever sitting down at the table. 

“I-I’m leaving…! Don’t talk to me today!” 

“You’re skipping breakfast? Pete, that’s not good for you—” 

Chela tried to stop him, but the bespectacled boy ignored her and hurried out of the cafeteria. Oliver sighed as he watched him go. 

“…Guess we’ll just have to watch and wait for now.” 

“Good of you to come, pathetic creatures who crawl upon the earth! Today is the day of your evolution!” the young male instructor proclaimed with utter sincerity as he gallantly appeared before the group of about forty students gathered in the courtyard. The students frowned, but the instructor’s smile was an expression of pure celebration. 

“There are many reasons to pity the nonmagicals, but the saddest of all is that they cannot fly. Don’t you agree? They spend their entire lives on the ground, and their deaths underneath it! I can’t think of anything more sad or pathetic… Ah, and before you ask, I’m going to have a sky burial. The birds will have my flesh, and I shall return to the sky!” the teacher proudly stated. 

After all they’d experienced since starting at Kimberly, none of the students were surprised by the instructor’s thoughtless remarks. They were so jaded, in fact, that Guy even had the gall to whisper, “Until you turn into bird poop and get dropped to the ground anyway.” Oliver had to hold back a chuckle. 

“With that out of the way, my name is Dustin Hedges, and I teach broomriding here at Kimberly. If you need my attention, please address me as Instructor Dustin. Due to personal reasons, I’m currently not on good terms with my family, you see. Anyway, first, you need brooms! Let me show you to the broomhouse. Follow me now!” 

The instructor strode off dramatically, beckoning the students to follow. As they walked behind him, Nanao folded her arms and frowned. 

“Mmm… So the time has finally come.” 

“? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more worried than curious, Nanao,” Oliver said. 

“I’m not worried; I simply do not feel this is feasible. A living creature would be one thing, but mounting a broom and levitating? I cannot fathom it,” Nanao responded quite honestly. 

Oliver grinned. “…I see. You seem to be under a common misconception.” 

“Mm?” 

“Let me share a secret with you: Brooms can’t fly. This is true for both the nonmagical world and the magical one.” 

“What? But, Oliver, are you not—?” 

—holding a broom over your shoulder? She shifted her gaze to his back, where he was indeed carrying a broomstick about as long as he was tall. Oliver ignored her question and grinned mysteriously. Soon, they reached a large building. 

“This is the broomhouse,” Dustin announced. “Let me warn you, though: Some of them can be quite temperamental.” 

Dustin then drew his white wand. He cast a spell, and the latch to the broomhouse dropped away. The iron double doors swung open with a heavy creak, and a gust of hot air came rushing out. 

“Mm? This smell…” 

Nanao, perplexed, sniffed the air. A fair number of the other students were doing the same. The broomriding instructor grinned. 

“Those of you born to nonmagicals seem to have already picked up on it. This place doesn’t have the feel of a simple broomstick storage shed, does it? Especially the smell,” Dustin said as he strode inside the building. He was right—the air in the broomhouse was different. Woodchips and twigs were scattered around the expansive space, and a wild smell permeated the entire building. It was more like a barn than anything else. Cautiously, the students stepped inside—when suddenly, a fleet of broomsticks rushed past over their heads. 

“Whoa!” 

“The friendlier ones have gathered, then. Well, go on. Say hello. These are your future partners.” 

The fleet of broomsticks swirled overhead like a great whirlpool; one by one, the broomsticks landed and drew closer. They certainly did seem “friendly.” One broom extended its handle toward Nanao, who prodded it and narrowed her eyes. 

“These aren’t objects—they’re living things,” the Azian girl noted intuitively. The instructor nodded in acknowledgment. 

“That’s right. Genus Besom, of the subfamily Scopae, to be exact. No spells were cast on these brooms—they’re full-on magical creatures. They move on their own and can even breed.” 

The students from nonmagical families stared in awe at the flying broomsticks, which looked so nimble and free. Dustin continued: 

“They’re not fake, either. Long ago, we used these creatures’ remains for cleaning, which is how the household brooms you know came to be. But chronologically speaking, these beings came first. It is only in recent millennia that we have learned to ride them. Going further back, we’ve discovered fossils dating a hundred thousand years old. They’re very long-lived, these brooms. By the way, the young man with the glasses—what you’re stepping in is broom poop.” 

“Uwah?!” 

Pete quickly jumped back. Dustin cackled at his reaction. 

“No need to worry. It’s not dirty. You see, brooms don’t eat like we do. What they mainly consume is magic particles and elementals. As they fly through the air, they absorb them into their bodies. It’s closer to breathing than eating, really. You may have heard about something similar with migratory fish.” 

Oliver nodded. Many types of fish preferred not to hunt for prey, but to instead move through the water at high speeds and eat whatever tiny organisms got sucked into their mouths. The brooms simply did this in the air. 

“Naturally, you won’t be getting a free ride from these guys. The mana they receive from mages is like a feast. So while we ride them, they’re consuming our mana as fuel. This allows them to fly much faster than they would alone, making the experience pleasant for them as well.” 

The instructor stroked a nearby broom as he spoke. To nonmagicals, the creature’s tail seemed like it was just a collection of dried twigs, but even this was the result of, in magical biological terms, evolution. Katie, who seemed to know this already, gazed dreamily at the brooms. 

“But as they are living creatures, not every rider will be a match for each one. Your size and personality are an important part of the equation, but what’s most important is the mana you can provide them. If they don’t like this aspect of you, a broom won’t let you ride it. In human terms, you could say it’s like if you were offered unlimited beer. Unless you loved the flavor, you’d probably reject it.” 

Dustin attempted to give a relatable example, but as the students were still too young to drink alcohol, they seemed more puzzled than anything. Unbothered, the instructor continued: 

“If you touch the shaft, they’ll be able to read the compatibility of your mana. Now go and find your partners! Get to it, before someone steals your darling away!” 

This was the signal for the Broom Matching to begin. Encouraged by the instructor’s words, the students dashed over to the brooms in a hurry. Chela stepped next to Oliver and caught his attention. 

“You’ve brought your own broom, then, Oliver?” 

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a while. I’m a bit disappointed that I can’t join in on the fun, though.” 

“I know. I was looking forward to this, too. Well, Nanao, Katie, Guy, and Pete—let us go forth! Let’s find some fantastic partners!” Chela called out to all her friends, even though Pete was keeping his distance, and together, they walked over to the brooms. Katie and Guy gazed at the flying creatures in thought. 

“Aw, they’re all so lovely… How are we supposed to pick just one…?” 

“Hmm… H-hey, how ’bout you? …Whoa, geez!” 

Guy casually reached out for a broom, and it swung its shaft at him angrily. Oliver smirked. Brooms wouldn’t let you touch them if they didn’t like you—more proof that they were indeed living creatures. 

“…Hey, look…” 

“Whoa…” 

A few minutes after the Matching began, the students, who were completely engrossed in choosing their brooms, began to notice something strange. They fixated their gazes on the Azian girl, who was walking about and observing the brooms just like them—however, nearly a hundred brooms were swarming around her. The instructor seemed quite impressed by the massive reaction. 

“Well, well. You seem to possess something the brooms love, Ms. Hibiya. This often happens when one possesses clear, unprejudiced mana. You won’t have any trouble finding a partner.” 

“That is good to hear. I appreciate their warm welcome— Mm?” 

She didn’t appear to be walking to the brooms so much as letting them come to her as she advanced—until suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes froze on a lone broom way in the back of the building, lying completely still against the broom rack that was their resting place. 

“Are you not going to come out and join us?” 

“Wait! Not that one!” Dustin frantically called as Nanao began walking toward it. She turned and looked at him quizzically, so he explained. “That one’s especially wild. It’s also acted very rough during the Matching, so it’s been years since anyone’s truly ridden it. You’ll end up black-and-blue if you aren’t careful.” 

His warning was stern. Nanao nodded but didn’t turn back. The other brooms, sensing danger, distanced themselves as she reached out toward the silent broom without a shred of fear—and the broom swiped menacingly at the air just in front of her fingertips. 

“Ohhh, I see.” 

Unbothered by the rejection, Nanao reached out her hand farther. The broom swung at her like a whip, as if to say, I warned you! Nanao deftly dealt with each strike using both hands and smiled. 

“This brings back memories… Akikaze was like this in the beginning, too.” The girl’s eyes filled with nostalgia. The other students gaped as they watched this exchange, but Nanao continued to speak calmly. “You don’t need a voice for me to understand—you won’t let anyone except your true master ride you, won’t you?” 

The moment she said those words, the bucking broom froze. In the strained silence, the girl and broom faced each other. 

“I don’t intend to force you, should you refuse. But with that said, I have one message for you: This young lady likes you the most of all.” 

And with that, she reached out confidently with her right hand, her eyes burning with determination. After a long silence, the broom rocketed up to the ceiling, then abruptly changed its trajectory and descended in a beautiful half circle before reaching the ground. Upon finishing its short but amazing flight, it came to rest its shaft firmly in her right hand. 

“I accept. Then let us go forth together.” 

Feeling the weight of its acceptance in her palm, Nanao turned around in a commanding manner, her new partner in hand. The students’ jaws were on the floor. 

“…You’ve gotta be kidding.” 

Even the instructor was stunned. He gawked at her as she ran straight to her friend. 

“Oliver, I’ve decided on this one!” 

“R-right. Congrats, Nanao.” 

Oliver snapped out of his awestruck daze just in time to respond as Nanao proudly showed off her first broom. 

Dustin stared, then covered part of his face with his hand. “…She actually grabbed it… I’m a little shocked—no, more than just a little. After all my failed attempts with that broom… But I see… Yes, it makes sense. Her mana was pleasantly clear, too.” 

Dustin’s self-deprecating mutterings fell on deaf ears—but there was one other person who’d received just as big of a shock. 

“…” 

“? What’s the matter, Oliver? Why are you staring?” 

Oliver’s eyes were so focused on Nanao and her broom that he could have bored holes in them both. Realizing this, he quickly averted his gaze. 

“I-it’s nothing… I’m sure that broom will be difficult, but I hope you will treat it kindly.” 

“Of course! ’Tis my future partner, after all!” Nanao replied cheerfully. Despite her innocence, he couldn’t shake the strangest feeling. Who could have predicted that this broom, which had only ever allowed one rider before, would partner itself with this girl? 

About an hour later, the Broom Matching was over. Not everyone had it so easy, but in the end, each student had a broom. The new pairs lined up in the courtyard, and their instructor finished pulling himself together and resumed the class. 

“Now that you have your partners, it’s time for actual flying lessons. You all see your saddles and stirrups before you, yes?” 

The students looked down at the grass and saw saddles and stirrups much like those used for horses, only smaller. Their use was obvious, but Dustin continued to explain anyway. 

“First, you must saddle your brooms. Perhaps a thousand years ago, people rode bareback, but not in this day and age. Although, if you love having your crotch torn to shreds, then I won’t stop you—” 

“I’m done. Is this acceptable?” Nanao chirped, seeking confirmation of her work. 

A strange guffaw escaped the instructor’s throat. “That was fast! Are you kidding? That’s the first real test in my class! It’s tradition for new students to get kicked in the face when they try to force a saddle on their brooms! Even experienced riders have a difficult time with a new broom.” 

He hustled over and began inspecting her handiwork for even the tiniest flaw. However, the saddle and stirrups were of extremely simple construction. Once he’d confirmed that the equipment was on straight, there was nothing to complain about. His inspection was done in a flash, and he sighed dramatically. 

“…Well, if you’re done, you’re done… Nanao Hibiya. I’ve been teaching broomriding at Kimberly for a relatively long time, but quite frankly, this is a first for me. I’ve never been so surprised by a student before they even got off the ground.” 

The instructor gave his honest opinion. Meanwhile, the other students were struggling hard with their saddles. Many were bleeding from the nose after being kicked by their bucking brooms, with Guy among them. After about twenty minutes, everyone was finally saddled up. 

“Good, everyone’s managed. I’m sure the veterans want to get in the air already, but for today, we’ll be going over the basics with the beginners. Students, mount your brooms!” 

At the teacher’s orders, the excited students hopped onto their brooms. Instantly, a few of them took off without waiting for his signal. They quickly lost control of the brooms, spiraling through the sky until the instructor unleashed a multitude of spells to catch them all. Their ability to fly gone, the students dropped like flies into the dense shrubbery. 

“Yes, yes, good of you to carry on the tradition of shooting off too early. I’m not upset, though. Take a deep breath, center yourselves, and remount your brooms. Ah, this is much better. Now this is a first-year class!” 

Dustin seemed deeply relieved to see familiar failures. Oliver, who had been surprised more than once by Nanao in the past, felt a strange sense of companionship. He smiled thinly. 

“Start with trying to hover two feet above the ground for thirty seconds. Begin!” Dustin barked, and almost instantly, the students erupted into screams once more. About half of them were able to float steadily, but one after another, many lost their balance and toppled over. 

“Whoa!” 

“Wah—wah—wah!” 

“Ha-ha! Surprisingly difficult, isn’t it? It’s harder to keep a broom still for extended periods of time than it is to let them fly! But if you acquaint yourself with this feeling first, your flights will be a lot safer. Hey, you there! Introduce yourself! Then I’d like you to tell us what’s the most common cause of broom accidents.” 

The sudden question caught Oliver off guard, but he replied while keeping his broom afloat. 

“My name is Oliver Horn. To answer your question, it’s most common to fall during an emergency brake. For beginners, it’s falling during takeoff.” 

“Cool as a cucumber, this one. No fun at all. Well, he’s right. The higher your altitude, the more likely it is for an accident to be fatal. Even in the worst cases, try to fall feetfirst. Healing magic can’t help you if you’re dead on impact,” the instructor said, giving a smile that sent a chill up the students’ spines. It wasn’t a threat but a simple fact of life for broomriders. For this reason, many families kept brooms from their children and waited until they were older, once their decision-making abilities were better developed, to teach them flying and what to do in an emergency. 

“…Thirty seconds have passed… And of course, you’ve passed with flying colors.” 

“Flying colors? Why, I’m just sitting on my broom.” 

The teacher’s gaze landed on Nanao, who was floating without difficulty. He pursed his lips unhappily. 

“I’m telling you, this is the hard part. Which is why I don’t believe you’re a newbie at all. You’ve taken to broomriding far too easily. Go on, fess up. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” 

“I make no falsehoods, sir. However, it is true that this isn’t my first time riding upon the back of a mount. Brooms are much like horses—one must discern their will and bring it into harmony with one’s own,” Nanao replied. Seemingly bored with simply floating, she expertly levitated forward and backward slowly. The instructor frowned and groaned. 

“I’ve never ridden a horse, but… I see. A horse, eh? If your performance is any indication, they must share some things in common. Of course, you may just be unique. If you said the same thing to a real broomriding pro, you’d likely send them into a rage.” 

A smile creeped onto his lips as the instructor mumbled to himself. It was the same sort of boyish grin that Master Garland sometimes showed. Dustin’s careless remarks at the beginning of class were very Kimberly-esque, but Oliver couldn’t bring himself to detest this man, either. 

“Next, we’ll move on to the part you’ve all been waiting for—flying. To me, helpers!” 

At the instructor’s call, older students came flying in on broomsticks from somewhere outside the courtyard. There were about twenty of them; they landed and formed lines in front of the first-years. 

“Today, you won’t have to worry about falling. If you do, these students will be here on the ground to gently catch you with magic no matter how high you are. So trust in them and fly—isn’t that right, helpers?” 

“““““Yes, sir!””””” 

The older students replied in unison, striking their chests. It was an inspiring sight to see. With that, the instructor continued the class. 

“So, veterans, you’ll be flying first. Let’s have…Mr. Horn, our model flier, you, and you—and you, Ms. Hibiya.” 

“Mm? Are you certain you wish to include me among the veterans?” Nanao asked. 

“I don’t mind. It’ll give me a bit of relief if you happen to fail spectacularly,” the instructor said with uninhibited spite. On his signal, they got into position. Oliver lined up next to Nanao as they prepared to take off. 

“…Don’t push yourself, Nanao,” he said. “Everyone falls on their first flight. If you don’t know how to land, it’s okay to get help.” 

“I understand. Whether this fellow will allow it is a different question, however,” she replied, chuckling and looking down at her broom. 

Soon, with everyone ready, Dustin gave them their last bit of instruction. “Ready? You’re to fly from here to there, landing a hundred yards away. Your goal is the white line. And… Fly!” 

He clapped his hands to signal them. Simultaneously, the four students lifted off the ground—and one rocketed away on their own. 

“Huh?” 

“Ah?” 

“…” 

The rest of the class stared in amazement, except for Oliver. He knew this would happen to her if she rode that particular broom—but no one else knew. The instructor’s eyes went wide at the sight of Nanao racing ahead. 

“So fast! There’s no way she can stop—in fact, she’s on course to have a terrible crash! Get ready, helpers!” 

Nanao shot across the grass, passed the halfway point in the blink of an eye, and prepared to descend. Meanwhile, the instructor barked panicked orders at the older students, who were already prepared to act. 

“““““Elletardus!””””” 

They chanted the spell together, unleashing a momentum-hindering spell toward the Azian girl, who was going far too fast to land properly. Five beams of light shot straight at her— 

“Hrnph!” 

—which Nanao deftly dodged, and just as she was about to hit the ground, she pulled sideways into an arc, decelerating. The wind from her approach rippled through the shrubbery until she finally came to a complete stop. She turned to face the shocked older students with an awkward smile, scratching her head. 

“Oh dear. My apologies. I tried to go as slow as possible. This fellow just has too much power.” 

“…………Huuuunh?” 

The instructor’s face stiffened, as if this was the most absurd thing he’d ever witnessed. Oliver and the others eventually caught up and landed by her, then together, they all flew back at a low altitude. The instructor looked deflated. 

“…You know what? You win. You win, Ms. Hibiya. You’re amazing. Talented beyond compare,” Dustin complimented with an undercurrent of resentment. Then he pointed behind her. “And that means it’s time for recruitment hell. Don’t go getting your hand ripped off now.” 

“Mm—?” 

Nanao, sensing a presence behind her, spun around and came face-to-face with a bunch of older students, their eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“That was so impressive…! You have to join our team, Ms. Hibiya!” 

“No, ours! Join ours, samurai girl!” 

“Oh! We get snacks every day at three!” 

“Stop trying to hook her with food! Join us, and I’ll personally pay to outfit you with the highest-quality saddle and stirrups.” 

“Bribery is against the rules!” 

“Would you like a year of homework-completion services?” 

“Wha—? In that case, we’ll—” 

One after another, the helpers attempted to top one another’s lavish recruitment bonuses. Seeing that the competition was beginning to spiral out of control, the instructor clapped his hands and defused the situation. 

“Okay, that’s enough. Don’t go overboard. We still have class to finish.” 

The helpers slunk back to their positions as the first-years looked on in confusion. 

“As you can see, this class also doubles as a first-year recruitment period. Anyone who shows too much talent is likely to feel the loving, suffocating embrace of their seniors, so be careful. It’s too late for Ms. Hibiya, however,” he sneered. Nanao still didn’t seem to understand her position. His lips still curled in a smile, the instructor muttered under his breath, “Still, this year should prove interesting.” 

With the morning’s classes over, it was time for lunch. At the cafeteria, the only topic of conversation among the six friends was Nanao’s newly acquired talent. 

“…My jaw was quite literally on the floor. It’s been six months since the school year started, and yet, Nanao—you’re still surprising us,” Chela said, half in awe and half in fear. Nanao laughed as she tore voraciously into her meat pie. 

“I had no idea flying lessons would prove to be such fun. I cannot wait for the next one!” 

“That’s great, real great… Don’t suppose you could share some tips with li’l ol’ me, eh, Nanao?” Guy said, depression looming on his face. He’d fallen so many times during class that if he didn’t improve soon, he wouldn’t be able to mount a broom anymore. Nanao exhaled from her nose as she thought. 

“From what I saw, you were trying too hard to control the broom. The brooms are the fliers, and we are the riders. Remember that and try to entrust yourself to your partner more.” 

“It’s important to focus on communicating your sincerity to your partner, instead of using your hands to direct them. Take notes from Katie,” Chela added. 

“Eh-heh-heh-heh. I wasn’t nearly as amazing as Nanao, though,” Katie said shyly, scratching her head. Totally outclassed by his usual rival, Guy looked at the ground sullenly. 

“You fell a lot, too, right, Pete? Maybe we should both get lessons from the girls.” 

“D-do what you want. I’ll practice on my own,” Pete responded sharply, refusing to say more. Instead, he focused intently on cutting the herring on his plate and transporting it into his mouth. Guy looked at Oliver dejectedly. 

“He’s still in his rebellious phase. Such a difficult age, isn’t it, Mother dear?” 

“That’s puberty for you, Father dear. What can you do?” 

“You two are not my parents!” 

Pete slammed the table at their joke. The group burst into laughter when someone interjected: 

“’ello. So nice to see you all in such high spirits, eh?” The speaker had a thick Ytallian accent. 

The group turned to the source of the voice and saw a boy with almond-shaped eyes standing before them, a very friendly smile on his face. They could tell he was a fellow first-year, but none of them had spoken to him before. 

“Hello,” Oliver responded, somewhat hesitantly. “Who are you?” 

“Tullio Rossi, a first-year. Ah, you do not need to introduce yourselves. I am quite familiar with all of you already, Oliver,” Rossi answered, grinning. His gaze crossed the table and landed on Nanao. “A very impressive display this morning, Nanao. For your first ride, it was quite the show. Some people have all the talent, eh? I am completely serious. Will you not share some of it with me?” 

Rossi laid on the praise with a heavy dose of irony and even more overfamiliarity. 

Chela quickly cut in. “Nanao’s upbringing can’t be summed up with a pretty little word like talent, Mr. Rossi.” 

“Ah, Michela. Don’t I know it. I ’ave eyes, too. Ha-ha! You cannot kill a garuda with talent alone,” Rossi replied, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes. 

Oliver was watching him intently now. The boy wasn’t outright declaring himself their enemy, but he was certainly dangerous. 

“But think of the rest of us, eh? With you getting all the attention, everyone else is left out in the cold. It is so lonely out there. I ’ave always ’ated being left out of the fun. The more, the merrier—am I right, my formidable comrades?!” 

He practically shouted those last words and turned to face the whole cafeteria. Oliver sensed many, many eyes on their table. 

“…What are you trying to say, Mr. Rossi?” he asked stiffly. 

“Now, now. Nothing too crazy. We ’ave been at Kimberly for six months, no? I think we should follow our seniors’ example and decide among ourselves who is the strongest first-year.” 

His declaration sent a buzz through the student body. It was an extremely simple theory: So long as there were multiple strong contenders, they would naturally seek out who was the strongest of all. 

“Of course, the de facto winner is Nanao. I do not ’ave a problem with that. But what is wrong with giving the rest of us the chance to challenge ’er? Some of us wish we could ’ave been there when the garuda went on the attack—including me, of course.” 

Rossi smiled again, while Oliver glared at him sternly. He’d felt someone’s gaze lingering on him and Nanao, stalking them ever since they defeated that garuda. Thus, this suggestion came as no surprise. He’d expected this person to bite eventually. 

“We fight, to the last man or woman. Fight to settle once and for all who is the strongest. Otherwise, I will get no sleep at night. So did everyone hear? Come forward and name yourselves, eh? Who wants to join the party?” Rossi shouted, unwilling to let the moment pass. The students’ excitement was palpable. 

A girl from a distant table stood up. “I’m in!” the short, blond girl shouted. 

Chela’s eyes went wide. “A Cornwallis? Really?” 

“Wh-who’s that?” 

“Stacy Cornwallis, a relative of mine. Our families have always been quite distant, so we hardly talk at school,” Chela answered with trepidation. 

Stacy, however, stood strong, her nostrils flared with excitement. 

Next to her, a boy stood up, clearly annoyed. “Seriously? You want in? You were quaking in your boots like the rest of us when that garuda attacked.” 

“F-Fay! You’re mistaken! I was just watching really intently!” Stacy claimed. Her tone turned quite childish. This seemed to be her typical demeanor, in contrast with Chela’s prim and proper attitude. 

The boy named Fay sighed. “Well, I guess that’s that… I’ll join, too, Mr. Rossi. I won’t make any claims about my strength, but I can’t just sit back and watch this kid throw herself to the dogs,” he said, raising his hand. Rossi chuckled after witnessing their exchange. 

“Very good, very good! If you have the spirit, you are welcome to join. Ah yes—those of you who stayed out of the garuda fight, think of this as your chance to redeem your ’onor! Or would you rather spend the rest of the year a whipped dog?” 

It was a challenge thinly veiled in friendly concern. A round of voices piped up, signaling their entrance in the competition. 

Nanao smiled happily at the rising excitement in the room. “I like how spirited everyone is. A fine display of youthful energy. Might I join as well?” she asked, raising her hand. 

Rossi flashed a toothy smile. 

“Nanao, you are a true champion. You truly understand the dignity of a king. But what of you, Oliver? Nanao wants to join. Are you content to just sit and watch from your lofty perch?” he asked, needling her tablemate. 

After a few moments, Oliver quietly spoke. “…I don’t care about any trophy naming me the strongest first-year, but I also don’t have any reason to back out of a match with my classmates. I’ll join. Are you satisfied now, Mr. Rossi?” 

His tone was thorny as he accepted the challenge. Their eyes locked, and Rossi curled his lips in fiendish joy. Now Oliver finally saw the dangerous, pugilistic heart lying beneath Rossi’s friendly exterior. 

“…Then there’s no reason I shouldn’t join, either,” Chela added. 

“Wha—? Chela?!” 

“Wait, you too?!” 

Their friends shouted in surprise as the ringlet girl calmly raised her hand. 

Rossi whistled, his excitement building upon seeing Chela’s indomitable smile. “Lovely! You make me so ’appy. It is important that we have as many participants as possible.” He then turned his gaze to a table close to the entrance and raised his voice so they could hear him all the way over there. “And what about you, Mr. Andrews? Always boasting about your skill in sword arts, no? And one of the three who defeated that garuda, besides!” 

The long-haired boy Rossi called out by name—Richard Andrews—quietly got to his feet. 

“Sorry, but I’ll have to pass. My focus is on confronting myself, not others. My mind is made up.” 

“Mm, I see. Tucking tail and running, eh? I’m disappointed!” 

“Say whatever you want. Pardon me.” 

Andrews ignored the taunt and left the cafeteria. Rossi cocked his head as he watched him go. 

“Aw, he left. What a surprise. I was sure he would take the bait.” 

“Maybe long ago, he would have,” Chela said. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’m participating in your challenge now. Insulting Rick was careless of you.” 

She glared at him, her earlier smile gone. 

Rossi quickly threw up his hands. “Brrr. Forgive me, it was just a bit of banter. I did not mean nothing by it,” he apologized, smiling sheepishly. He then quickly returned to the main topic. “Now that we ’ave all our competitors, let us decide on the particulars. A normal tournament would be boring, no? I doubt everyone wants a proper duel on school grounds.” 

Rossi’s tone was thick with sarcasm as he surveyed the competitors. He then withdrew a metal coin from his pocket and held it up for all to see. It was about two times larger than a belc, the common currency of Yelgland. 

“So let us ’ave a capture-the-medallion competition. If you are a mage, you should be able to make your own unique medallion. For the next seven days, we will all secretly keep these on our persons. During that time, you are free to pick a fight with whomever you want. If you lose, you must surrender one medallion to the winner. When you have lost all your medallions, you’re out. On the last day, the four with the ’ighest number of medallions will duel. It’s interesting, no?” 

The students looked at one another in surprise. Nanao folded her arms, a conflicted expression on her face. 

“Mm. Forgive me, but I do not know how to create a medallion.” 

“Oliver can teach you. I trust ’e can get it done by the end of today, no? Think of it as a form of insurance. I would love to ’ave an audience for every battle, but that might not be possible everywhere. It is better for everyone if we ’ave some proof of victory.” 

This made sense to Oliver. If, for example, battles were to take place secretly in the labyrinth, then the winners would need tangible proof of their victory for the event to proceed smoothly. Of course, that alone wasn’t enough to cover all forms of cheating, but Tullio Rossi didn’t seem the type to enjoy unbridled chaos. Rossi spent the next five minutes asking each participant their name and scribbling it down on a scroll. 

“All participants’ names are now recorded. And with that… Begin!” he suddenly announced, lifting the scroll. 

The students stiffened. 

“What is the matter? Go ahead, fight. Who cares if you cannot make a medallion, eh? You cannot fake the results right ’ere.” 

Sneering, he stoked the embers. Suddenly, everyone became intensely aware of one another. Who do I have the greatest chance of beating? Who’s the most dangerous to fight? Who would bring the most honor if I defeated them? Their minds raced with cold-blooded calculations. 

“…I know it’s sudden, but could I ask for a duel, Ms. Hibiya?” 

The first to speak up was a girl from a nearby table. 

The students buzzed as Nanao got to her feet without a moment’s hesitation. “But of course. Where shall we hold it?” 

“We’ll probably get in trouble if we do it here, so let’s go into the courtyard. I’m guessing the audience will follow us anyway.” 

Nanao nodded at her proposal, and they walked out of the building together. 

Katie stared after them for a bit, dazed, and then quickly stood up in a fluster. “…Huh? Huh?! Wait, they’re fighting already?!” she shouted. 

“All participants have the right to challenge their opponent to a duel. The earlier, the better. And this girl is quite serious,” Chela said, trying to praise the duelist’s bravery. She got to her feet, too, then followed the girls, with the rest of the students trailing behind. 

A few minutes later, the two duelists stood in the courtyard adjacent to the cafeteria, facing off. 

“Starting distance is twenty yards. That’s the general rule. You fine with that?” 

“No complaints here. However, I still have difficulty using magic. Do you mind if I stick with swordplay?” 

“Sure—if you can get close enough, that is,” the girl said, grinning confidently. They each drew their athames and cast a spell. 

““Securus!”” 

The blades, imbibed with magic, glowed with a white light. Each cast the antikilling spell not on their own blade, but on their opponent’s. This was important, as unless they trusted each other implicitly, it was the best way to avoid accidentally dealing lethal blows. If one was lax in their casting, the results would blow up in their face upon first contact. 

“Y-you think she’ll be okay…?” Katie fretted. “She won’t get hurt, will she?” 

“It’s hard to say,” Chela said. “What do you think, Oliver?” 

“Her opponent’s goal is clear,” he replied steadily. “She knows Nanao is bad at magic and wants to end the duel from outside the range of her sword arts. And judging from her calm demeanor, she’s likely had some experience in mage duels.” 

“…So Nanao’s in trouble?” 

Katie crossed her arms, looking worried. 

Oliver quietly yet firmly shook his head. “That may be her opponent’s plan, but honestly? She’s misjudged this. She’s really underestimating what Nanao can do with a sword,” he assured her with steady confidence. Then finally, the duel started. 

“Begin!” the mediator, a second-year, shouted. Nearly instantaneously, Nanao dashed forward in an almost perfectly straight line. She wasn’t even attempting to play games. The only thing on her mind was closing the distance and cutting through her opponent. 

“Impetus!” 

Her opponent waited a bit before casting her spell. Realizing that Nanao could dodge if she cast too soon, she let her get very close before unleashing a roaring hammer of wind to send Nanao flying, thus proving an immutable victory. 

“Hrmph!” 

Consequently, it was some time before she could come to terms with the fact that Nanao had instead sliced horizontally, driving the blow to the side. 

“…Huh?” 

Presented with the impossible, the girl froze. Fortunately, her instincts kicked in, and she managed to block the follow-up strike, but such a half-hearted defense was meaningless before Nanao. The diagonal slash easily pushed her athame aside, stopping an inch from her neck. 

“Mm, forgive me. I instinctually held back. Does this count as a win?” the Azian girl asked the audience. There’d been so little resistance that she hesitated to go through with the cut. Her opponent and the audience stood in dazed silence. Eventually, the mediator came to his senses. 

“Th-the winner is Nanao Hibiya!” 

Excitement rippled through the crowd. Ignoring them, Nanao sheathed her sword, placed her hands on her opponent’s shoulders, and smiled. 

“Let us fight again one day.” 

“…Huh? Oh,” the girl muttered weakly, not even realizing she’d lost. 

Chela exhaled with awe. “That’s what I expected… No, dare I say, even more magnificent a duel than I could have imagined.” 

“Her opponent never stood a chance. Not when she didn’t even know about Nanao’s Flow Cut,” Oliver mercilessly commented. How could she have known, though? This was the first time Nanao had used that technique on a fellow first-year. It was her personal secret technique, similar to the Koutz style’s Flow Cut, yet vastly different—the Double-Handed Flow Cut. It wasn’t for underhanded reasons that she kept it a secret, however. In fact, she’d consulted both Master Garland and Oliver before deciding to do so. If the other students were to witness this technique during class, it surely wouldn’t end well. None of them were capable of copying her, even if they wanted to, and it would only make them feel incompetent despite still being beginners. Who could recover after being defeated in such a manner? 

“Just being at the top of the class isn’t enough to challenge Nanao anymore,” said Oliver. “Only someone stronger than a first-year could hope to stand on equal ground.” 

“I agree. Honestly, I’m shivering,” Chela said, pressing down on her shoulders to steady herself. 

Nanao, her first victory in hand, returned to them, and the ringlet girl welcomed her back with a loud proclamation: 

“Oliver, Nanao—listen to me. I swear to survive until the final day.” 

Oliver, Nanao, Katie, Guy, and Pete looked at her in surprise. Normally, Chela watched over them from just a step behind. But now she was bringing her secret feelings to the surface. 

“And I suggest you two do the same. Let us three survive as the other participants fall—and then we can have a fair duel. That would be the most exciting conclusion, don’t you agree?” Chela asked, although she would not accept a negative answer. 

Nanao nodded fiercely. 

“I accept. What say you, Oliver?” she responded, then looked over to the boy standing next to her. 

Oliver was too conflicted to answer so quickly. All he could remember was the first time he and Nanao had crossed swords—that moment when she realized he was the man of her destiny—and the crystal-clear tears she had shed. 

“…Okay. If it’s for a competition, I don’t mind,” Oliver replied after calming himself. No matter his feelings, there was no way he could avoid it forever. He’d have to face her again at least once in their seven years together at the academy. “The final day marks the time of our duel. I’ll do my best to survive until then, too.” 

His response was resolute, and he locked eyes with Nanao. 

Chela smiled. “I’m finally joining in, too. How long has it been since I last felt such excitement?” the ringlet girl muttered under her breath, an unprecedented fire alight within her. She was a mage herself, after all. She wasn’t about to sit frustrated on the sidelines and watch Oliver and Nanao’s little world any longer. 

Their first class of the afternoon was magical engineering. This subject, like flying lessons, had been added to their curriculum after the first six months of the school year. Many of the students were elated to experience this new area of study. 

“Kya-ha! Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to magical engineering! I’m your teacher, Enrico Forghieri. Nice to meet you! Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

The moment class began, an old man entered the room, cackling maniacally and holding a lollipop in one hand. The entire class was taken aback. 

“I think this is the craziest teacher we’ve had yet,” Guy whispered to his friends, unable to contain himself. 

The old man in question licked his lollipop, grinning widely. 

“Guy, you’ve never even met this man before! You can’t just—” 

“No, he’s right. Don’t let down your guard.” 

Katie tried to scold Guy, but Oliver curtly interrupted. They all watched as the old man named Enrico began outlining the class. 

“What I teach is, in essence, the basics of our magical society. In other words, the theories and techniques that allow the creation of various magical tools and structures. Without them, magic has no form—we would be no better than flashy tricksters! Impossible, you say! Utterly ridiculous, you say! Of course I want the trick box I worked so hard on to be passed down through the generations!” Enrico shrieked, spreading his arms wide. “Even Kimberly itself is a beautiful trick box left to us by our ancestors! The very first of my line was involved in its construction, and yet there are some parts of this place that are a mystery even to my family. But this is only natural! For unlike the boring creations of nonmagicals, creations of the magical world are alive! There are so many tales of mages being eaten by their own houses that we could use the parchment they’re written on for toilet paper! Kya-ha-ha-ha! How utterly exciting!” 

The old man’s speech was rapid, his tongue flicking constantly against his candy. 

“I’ve devoted many hours to contemplating how to explain this fascinating world to you in the quickest way. Starting from basic theories and working our way up would be the most typical method—but it would also put us all to sleep! The most essential element of learning is that apprehension that makes your palms sweat, followed by the distinct logic and intuition found at its zenith! Please don’t worry—I promise you, my class will never be boring!” 

Enrico flicked his wand, and instantly, several boxes rose from the corners of the room. The students looked at the mystery items with apprehension. 

“Reverse engineering—have you heard of this concept? Put very simply, it involves studying something from the top down. It is a method used to learn the manufacturing process and operating principles of the subject by observing, disassembling, and analyzing a finished product instead of learning the foundational principles and using them to create a product. What I want is for you all to try this for yourselves.” 

The instructor swept through the classroom, continuing to lecture. 

“You see the four boxes that have appeared in this room, yes? They are all magical traps that will activate in exactly one hour. Disassemble and stop them in time, and you’ll all be fine. Should you fail to do so, however, you’ll be in a bit of trouble. Specifically, your limbs will be ripped from your bodies, and your skin will be melted by an incredibly painful poison. None of this will kill you, however.” 

The students buzzed with alarm. Enrico curled his lips into a smirk. 

“If you don’t want this to happen, then do your very best to disassemble the traps. Each box has its own unique mechanism, but don’t worry—I’ll still give you hints. And here’s a bit of advice: I suggest you appoint anyone who has experience in these fields as your leaders. Make the most of your time. Judging by past classes, wasting time is most often the reason for disaster. Now, is everyone ready? Then begin! Look alive, kids! Your lives depend on friendship and cooperation! Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

Everyone burst into action, acutely aware that this was no longer a simple class. 

“Anyone with experience, step forward now! We’re running out of time!” 

“If we’ve learned anything from these past six months at Kimberly, it’s that our instructors don’t exaggerate! Someone really will lose a limb if we fail!” 

Oliver and Chela immediately got to barking orders. The students’ faces paled upon realizing the danger they were in. Enrico observed as the class descended into a cacophony for a while before raising his voice. 

“Your first hint! Magical traps are split into three larger categories: timed, spring-loaded, and timed-spring-loaded. Today, you face three timed traps and one timed-spring-loaded trap. It will make things much easier if you identify them first!” 

Oliver ground his teeth. If one of them was a spring-loaded trap, then they had to be extra careful in handling them. They had no choice but to test them individually, he realized, and he began instructing his classmates. 

Fifty-eight minutes later, the students’ desperate work had paid off. They’d succeeded in disarming three of the four traps. But the last one—the timed-spring-loaded trap—was proving to be a headache. 

“Damn, still nothing?” 

“How the hell do we stop this thing?!” 

The students surrounding the remaining box were practically in hysterics. All the while, the hands on the clock ticked away the time. Now fifty-nine minutes had passed. Seeing this, Oliver came to a conclusion. 

“Screw it; there’s no time. Forget trying to solve it. Let’s focus on protecting ourselves!” Oliver ordered, making an executive decision to abandon their previous efforts. The students distanced themselves from the box, scattering like baby spiders. 

Pete turned, attempting to follow. 

“Ugh…?!” 

Suddenly, he felt incredibly dizzy, and his vision warped. In his mind, he knew he had to get away quickly, but his legs were losing feeling. He crumpled to the ground, unable to support the weight of his own body. 

“Pete!” 

Oliver, noticing something was amiss, jumped back in front of the trap. There wasn’t enough time to grab Pete and run. He quickly threw up a barrier spell, then shielded the boy with his own body, covering him with his robe and embracing his friend. 

The box exploded. But instead of fire or poison mist, thousands of long, thin, wriggling strands shot out toward the screaming students. 

“Ohhh, so close. Missed just one!” Enrico said as joyfully as ever. Pete, who had passed out for a second, slowly opened his eyes. 

“Uh… Ah…?” 

“Don’t move, Pete. Stay still,” Oliver whispered, still holding him. Sensing something off about his muffled voice, Pete peered out through a gap in the cloth—and was struck speechless. Dozens of snakes were wriggling violently on Oliver’s back, their fangs sinking into his flesh. 

“Y-your back…!” 

“I’m fine… It just hurts a bit. No big deal…,” Oliver said, gritting his teeth through the pain. 

Enrico seemed quite impressed. “Ohhh, very hardy, this one. Most first-years pass out, spasming in pain after that many bites. Allow me to join you, then! Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

And with that, the old man let himself be bitten from head to toe by the snakes; the rest of the slithering horde went after the students at the other end of the room. Chela and a few others quickly moved to defend themselves with magic, but the snakes slipped through and attacked student after student. Screams filled the air. 

“…Indeed, this does hurt quite a bit.” 

The students were backed against the wall, trying to get as far away from the threat as possible. Of them, only Nanao stepped forward of her own volition. A wave of snakes washed over her, biting her all over. She grimaced but kept walking. Eventually, she reached her friends and scooped up Oliver and Pete. 

“Nana…o?” 

“Allow me to lend a hand. This is unfortunately all I can do.” 

Spotting new prey, some of the snakes on Oliver switched targets to Nanao. Seeing this, Katie moved to join them. 

“Th-then let me—,” she started. 

“Stop, Katie!” Chela shouted as Katie tried to pass her. “I know you’re resilient, but you need training to withstand such strong pain!” 

Chela immediately held her friend back. She was keeping the snakes at bay with a heat-wave spell, and the area behind her was one of the only safe havens in the classroom. There was no way she could let Katie recklessly leave it to join the fight. 

“She’s right. But that doesn’t mean we have to just sit here and be bitten, either!” 

“Guy?!” 

Chela’s eyes went wide in surprise. The tall boy took out a small potion vial, dumped it over his head, and charged past her into the ball of snakes. He rushed straight toward Oliver, and the snakes switched targets as if drawn to him. “Tonitrus!” 

An electric current flowed through Guy’s body, catching all the snakes at once. He brushed off the unconscious reptiles and snorted. 

“That’s how we take care of ’em in my neck of the woods. You should’ve told us what was inside the traps earlier, Teach. Wouldn’t have been any reason to be scared, then,” Guy said, glaring at the snakes. 

Enrico cackled and raised his wand. “Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! So that’s how you exterminate them, eh? Then allow me to show you my method!” 

The old man chanted a spell, and instantly, the writhing snakes throughout the classroom twisted in pain and died. The pests exterminated, he faced the class and dictated their results, still smiling. 

“Three of four traps successfully disarmed—a fine effort for your first day, everyone. As a reward, have some candy.” With a flick of his wand, the small lollipops under the podium flew into the dumbstruck students’ hands. “But be certain not to neglect your practice, as I’ll be ramping up the difficulty next time. Fortunately, the majority of you escaped unscathed—but if the opposite were to happen, I’d be the only one able to heal you all. You’d be suffering for quite a bit longer.” 

Enrico grinned menacingly. 

Katie, now completely fed up, threw her lollipop hard against the ground. “Screw you! This class should be abolished!” she shouted with rage. 

Enrico wailed at the sight of the mercilessly broken candy. “Ahhhhh! What have you done, Ms. Aalto? How can you waste a sugary treat? Have you no heart?” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk! Your class is built with the intention to hurt us. This isn’t education—it’s torture!” Katie admonished, refusing to back down. Her anger caused the old man looked at her blankly. 

“What’s gotten you riled up, Ms. Aalto? You seem to dislike my class, but what specifically is the problem? Look around you. No one’s dead,” he said simply. All throughout the classroom, students were doubled over and moaning in pain, but this didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “This is the fastest teaching method. What do you think is a mage’s greatest advantage over a nonmagical? It is, quite frankly, the fact that we do not die so easily. As long as death is not instantaneous, healing magic can fix most wounds.” 

“…!” 

“Nonmagicals do not enjoy this benefit, and so they must employ safer teaching methods. They have no choice but to slowly convey knowledge, treating their students like glass and worrying about injury or death. We, however, are different. We can be fixed even if we are broken. Terrible injuries can be shrugged off, allowing us to return to our studies the next day. What is this quality if not an extraordinary boon? It is this advantage that allows us to attempt outlandish things in the pursuit of faster learning—so long as it doesn’t kill us!” 

Katie was dumbstruck. 

The old man shifted his gaze to Oliver. “Come here, Mr. Horn. The venom is not very strong, but you received too many bites. That will interfere with your next class, I’m sure. An antidote candy won’t be enough to purge your system.” 

Enrico beckoned him over, but Oliver shakily stood up and turned his back on the instructor. 

“…I’m fine. I happen to have a very effective ointment for a venom of this strength.” 

“Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! Have it your way, then. Suck on your candy and be happy! Without the proper antidote, you’ll be suffering all afternoon!” 

Enrico’s childlike laughter troubled Oliver more than the pain coursing through his body. 

“A-are you okay, Oliver?! You’re much paler than Nanao and Guy!” 

“I’m entering the recovery stage, don’t worry. More importantly…” In the hall after class, Oliver had applied first aid in the form of the aforementioned ointment and a healing spell. He turned to face his friends. “Pete, mind staying behind? I wanted to talk.” 

A hush fell over everyone. Eventually, the bespectacled boy nodded with resignation. 

“…Go on ahead, guys.” 

“Pete…?” 

“All right. Let’s go, everyone,” Chela tactfully urged the others. 

Katie glanced behind her one last time, a look of worry on her face. Once they were all around the corner, Oliver and Pete began walking down the hall. They came upon an empty classroom, and after closing the doors and confirming they were alone, Oliver broke the silence. 

“I’d had a faint suspicion about this since this morning. It wasn’t until I touched you earlier that I knew for sure, however.” 

“……!” 

Pete hugged himself in fear. Oliver looked him dead in the eye and asked: 

“Your body’s a different sex, isn’t it?” 

The words echoed in the empty classroom. A long silence fell between them—eventually, the bespectacled boy nodded. 

“…That’s right. Last night, I had a weird dream… And when I woke up, I was like this.” 

Pete took off his robe and undid three of the buttons on his shirt with quivering fingers. His exposed chest revealed, without a shadow of a doubt, budding breasts quite unlike Pete’s familiar flat torso. 

“I know this might be rude,” Oliver continued, “but is it the same…elsewhere?” 

“……Y-yeah…” 

“Then there’s no question about it. A transformation spell gone rogue or a disguise potion wouldn’t explain this. Your body is too perfectly formed to be the result of some foreign influence. It’s almost as if you’ve had this body your whole life. Such physical idiosyncrasies don’t exist in nonmagical society and are extremely rare even in mages. You’re a reversi.” 

Oliver described the phenomenon that was occurring within his friend’s body. Suddenly, like a dam bursting, Pete began talking. 

“I’ve felt sick since this morning, too. I have this terrible headache, I get weird dizzy spells, and I get worked up for no reason until I can’t focus on the task at hand… Is this all part of…whatever this is?” 

“Most likely. I’m not an expert, so I can’t say for sure, but it’s said that reversi struggle with the ability a lot until they learn to control it properly. Certain factors like their environment can force their sex to change, and the phases of the moon can heavily affect them as well. Now that I think about it, it was a full moon last night. That must have made the perfect marriage with the magical stimulation within Kimberly and your own body.” 

Oliver walked over to Pete as he explained and buttoned up the boy’s loose shirt. His friend’s shoulders were quivering ever so slightly. Oliver summoned all the sincerity within himself. 

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, this isn’t some sudden mutation that only happened because you came to Kimberly,” he continued. “The potential must have been in you all along—for example, a hazy concept of your own gender identity, or a feeling of being out of place, even among friends of the same gender. Personal experiences vary, so the only one who can say for sure where it comes from is you.” 

“……” 

Pete searched his memories. He’d never had many friends when living among nonmagicals and was always irritated with himself for not being able to fit in. Was it not just because he had the capability for magic but because of this as well? 

“I’m sure you have all sorts of mixed feelings. It’ll likely take a while for those emotions to settle. However, let me say one thing: Congratulations, Pete. You’ve discovered a wonderful potential in yourself.” 

Pete’s eyes went wide as dinner plates at that. 

Oliver smiled gently. “For those who desire mastery over magic, being a reversi is undoubtedly considered a gift. Many of history’s greatest mages were reversi. The most famous was the great sage Rod Farquois. Not everyone with this trait is at his level, of course, but it’ll certainly be a huge boon in your pursuit of the secrets of magic.” 

“Gift…? You call this…a gift?” 

“And the greater the gift, the more training is required to master it. This holds true for all fields. Oh, I guess it’s hard to imagine if I don’t give you an example. Let’s see…” Oliver thought for a bit, then drew his wand and indicated for Pete to do the same. “Try casting a lightning spell. That was one of your weaker elements, wasn’t it?” 

“…? …Tonitrus!” Pete chanted, confused, and aimed the spell at the floor nearby. Light surged at the tip of the wand and created an impact zone ten feet wider than it had been the last time. “What the heck? I’ve never managed that much power before.” 

“Males and females excel at different elements. This varies from person to person, so it’s not nearly that simple, but in your case, you’ve gained an increased affinity for lightning magic. I’ll bet a lot else has changed, too, so we should do a quick review later,” Oliver said, making mental notes. Pete stood there in silence as his friend continued. “Do you feel it now, Pete? You’ve gained something incredible. Sure, there’s a lot that can be annoying about it, too, but it’d be such a waste to live your life in fear of this. Consider using this talent, fostering it, and letting it grow. Of course, you’ll need to learn some self-control first, but—” 

He suddenly stopped. Sensing a presence from behind, Oliver spun around toward the classroom door. 

“Who’s there?!” he barked. Pete blinked, confused. 

“Sorry. It’s me,” a neutral-sounding voice quickly responded. The door silently opened, revealing a lone senior student. Their voice was light and beautiful, like a gentle breeze. There was only one person it could belong to. 

“Senior Whitrow…?” 

“Long time no see, you two. My apologies—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” 

“…Yeah, I know. If you really wanted to hide, I never would have picked up on your presence,” Oliver said, well aware of the gulf between them. 

Carlos Whitrow sighed with relief. 

“That’s good to hear. I had a feeling your friend would start showing his true colors soon,” Whitrow said, slowly stepping into the classroom. 

Pete scurried behind Oliver’s back. 

“I’ve sensed it since the first time we met in the labyrinth. You two were making quite the scene this morning, too. So I followed my hunch, and lo and behold, I was right.” After explaining what they were doing there, Whitrow smiled at the two younger students. “But it seems Mr. Horn has already told you everything I meant to explain.” 

Whitrow reached into their robe and withdrew a sheet of paper. 

“It’s a pain in the butt, isn’t it? But it’d be best for you to hear everything from your elders.” 

Pete cautiously reached out and took the paper with both hands. It was titled with the word Invitation. 

“Come join us at eight tonight. You’ll find a lot more folk like yourself there.” And with a smile and a wink, Whitrow turned and left. 

The rest of the day’s classes passed without any great issue. Freed from their studies, the students kicked back in the Fellowship. The group of five friends sat around a table eating dinner, their eyes on the entrance. 

“…Pete’s not coming, huh?” Katie whispered. 

“He said he was going to the library to search for some books. I’ll save him some food in case he runs late,” Oliver replied, stuffing a basket he’d bought at the school store with sandwiches and cheese. 

“If I can help, feel free to ask me for anything,” Chela said as she continued eating her meal. 

“Right, thanks.” 

Oliver smiled back. She’d likely picked up on a little of what was transpiring. Even so, she didn’t pry, merely extending a helping hand in case she was needed. Her delicacy was a lifesaver. 

“…Sorry I’m late.” 

Pete showed up once they’d finished eating and the cafeteria had become quite sparse. He sat down, looking sullen. 

“Yo! You’re here, Pete,” Guy called out casually. “I dunno what you’re researching, but did you discover anything good in the library?” 

“There’s only so much I can learn on my own, so… Oliver, about that thing… I hate to ask, but could you come with me tonight?” 

“Of course. But be sure to eat up before we head over.” Oliver quickly nodded, having anticipated this question, and handed his friend the basket of food. 

Pete gave a small nod of thanks, then began chewing on a sandwich. Oliver turned back to their friends. 

“I can’t tell you why yet, but tonight, Pete and I are going down into the labyrinth,” he announced. “There should be minimal danger, but if we’re not back by ten, then let a trustworthy senior know.” 

“Understood. Be careful, you two,” Chela said, seeing them off with a smile. The memories of the last time they’d entered the labyrinth surfaced in the back of Oliver’s mind. He swore to be more careful this time, so as not to expose any of his friends to danger again. 

Oliver and Pete followed the invitation’s instructions to a classroom on the third floor, spotted the full-length mirror that would serve as the entrance to the labyrinth, and steeled themselves. But all their caution turned out to be meaningless. 

“Ah, you’re here.” 

An older boy looked at them as he leaned against the wall. 

Oliver was shocked to see a familiar face. “President Godfrey? Wait, are you going to be accompanying us?” 

“Don’t mind me. I was gonna poke my head in at the event anyway. I also needed to apologize to you two,” he said and jumped through the mirror. Then he stuck out a hand and waved them in; Oliver and Pete followed quickly and arrived in a dark labyrinth passageway. Godfrey took the lead as they started walking. “Part of the work of a prefect is periodically checking in on gatherings within the labyrinth. We should’ve picked up on that kobold hunt and Miligan’s subsequent episode and stopped them before they happened, too. So once again, I apologize for our late response.” 

“No, please… There was no way you could have realized and stopped her when you didn’t suspect her at all,” Oliver replied. The memory of his battle with the snake-eyed witch was still fresh, and his voice hardened upon remembering that near battle-to-the-death. 

Godfrey smiled. “You’re much more mature than I was in my first year. Were things rough before you started school here?” 

“…I can’t say for sure. I don’t make a habit of comparing my life to others’,” Oliver answered shortly and refused to say more. Most mages didn’t like to share details of their past hardships with others so casually anyway. 

Sensing he’d touched a nerve, Godfrey shifted his gaze to the other boy. “I hear you come from a nonmagical family, Mr. Reston. How are you finding life at Kimberly?” 

“Huh?! Oh, uh, um…” 

“Ha-ha, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. Every second feels like you’re in danger, doesn’t it?” The prefect said exactly what Pete had tried to keep inside, then snorted loudly. “That was my first thought, too. And in the five years I’ve been here, that part of Kimberly hasn’t changed a bit. On campus, the instructors act like gods, assigning the most ridiculous and unfair tasks while the students spend their nights in the labyrinth conducting research and fighting battles in secret. I run around every day trying to make this a safer place, but who knows how much good I’ve actually done.” 

The marks of the long years of stress seeped into Godfrey’s face as he continued: 

“At this academy, the pursuit of magical knowledge is prioritized over the students’ safety. All we can do is try to arm ourselves with techniques that may help in any eventualities. However, there is some criticism of this system. There’s a movement to limit entrance into the labyrinth to only third-years and older. Unfortunately, the opposition is so fierce that it’s hard to see any changes being implemented.” 

“…I can imagine the struggle. Pardon my asking, but are you pro-rights?” 

“I’m not sure. Many of my friends are, but personally, I’m a much simpler human. I just think wherever I live should be as peaceful as possible. As for the greater world beyond that, it’s beyond my purview. I’ve got my hands full just dealing with Kimberly, you know?” 

Oliver felt a bit of sympathy for Godfrey’s self-deprecating mutterings. Here was a guy who wasn’t suited to living among all these demons. Kimberly was a place that slowly numbed any natural human emotions over the years. The more you fit in here, the more “eccentric” your mage mentality became. The two older students they’d met before in the labyrinth were a testament to this. 

As Oliver considered this, he also realized that Godfrey’s uniqueness was why he was a prefect. Oliver looked at the older student, a sliver of awe in his eyes, and Godfrey shifted his gaze back to him. 

“Your personality is well-suited to being a prefect, Mr. Horn. If you’re interested, you’d be welcome to come join us on a trial basis.” 

“…I’d be honored,” Oliver answered politely, considering the irony of the invitation. The more honorable Alvin Godfrey proved himself to be, the more certain Oliver became that they could never be allies. 

“We’re here. This is the meeting place for tonight,” Godfrey said, stopping in front of a blank wall. He spoke the password, and instantly, the rattling stones rearranged to form an entrance. There were no normal ways to enter a room within the labyrinth. Oliver and Pete followed the upperclassman inside. 

The room was slightly larger than a standard classroom. In the warm light, about thirty to forty students were conversing casually. On a table were refreshments, and in the back was an empty stage. 

“Not bad, right? Go on, help yourselves.” 

Oliver and Pete stopped at the entrance, but Godfrey brought them some drinks from the table, which they nervously accepted. 

“This is where all students with sex-based magical traits gather. Reversi are obviously a prime example, but there are actually a variety of related traits. Everyone present has insecurities they struggle to talk about openly—and they could all use a friend. You’re very welcome here, Mr. Reston.” 

Godfrey smiled warmly. As if to prove his statement, a few other students gathered around them. 

“Evenin’!” 

“Hey, a newbie! A newbie!” 

“Don’t scare the poor kid! You, in the glasses. I take it you’re the one?” 

Surprisingly, a bunch of older students started calling out to Pete. It was difficult to discern their gender from their clothes and mannerisms alone. 

Pete timidly took a step back, so Oliver spoke up instead. “As you’ve guessed, this is Pete Reston, a first-year who’s just recently learned he’s a reversi. I’m his friend, Oliver Horn. He’s visiting tonight in the hopes of receiving some advice going forward. I hope you’ll help us.” 

Oliver delivered his greeting politely. A silence fell over the older students—and then they burst into laughter. 

“So stiff! Stiff as a board you are, Oliver!” 

“Is there a fifth-year inside this guy or what?” 

“Relax, Mr. Horn. No need to be so nervous. We’re all friends here.” 

“…Erk…” 

The unexpected heckling struck Oliver silent. 

A large, feminine-looking student placed a gentle hand on his head. “You’re acting strong for your friend’s sake, aren’t you? Good boy, good boy.” 

They ruffled his hair like he was a sulking small child, which threw Oliver for a loop. The other students began turning their attention to the stage. 

“Oh, time for the main event. Everyone, that’s enough chattering.” 

The students shut their mouths, their attention on the stage where two figures stood. Oliver’s eyes went wide when he recognized one of them. 

“Brother?” 

His copper-haired cousin was standing on the stage, holding a large string instrument. In front of him was the prefect who’d organized this event, Carlos Whitrow, who spoke to the crowd with their characteristic beautiful voice. 

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight.” 

The audience cheered. It was like they were at a concert for a famous singer. Oliver and Pete couldn’t hide their confusion. 

“We have some new folks here tonight, so let me take a little time to reiterate just what this group is about. Everyone here, including me, possesses sex-based magical traits. We all have our fair share of problems. But it’s okay. Here, you can find help and support. Lay all your troubles out for us. If you’re a bit shy, be prepared to get a visit from me later.” 

Carlos’s gaze flicked over to Pete; the bespectacled boy nervously returned the silent greeting. Carlos smiled gently, then readdressed the audience. 

“But first comes our performance. I, Carlos Whitrow, will be your singer. Accompanying me is someone I’m sure you’re all very familiar with: the famous contrabass player Gwyn Sherwood. Are you ready to have your ears blown away?” 

““““““CARLOS! WE LOVE YOUUU!”””””” 

The younger students in the front row all cheered. Carlos blew them a kiss. 

“The volume is appreciated, my little kittens. Let’s begin, then. Our first number!” 

On their signal, the contrabass player behind them bowed a heavy, solemn note. That alone was enough to capture all the ears in the room—and then Carlos began to sing. 

“Wha—?” 

In an instant, Oliver and Pete were swept off their feet. 

The impossibly clear vocals echoed not in their minds, but in their chests. The sound flowed through their bodies, filling every inch from head to toe and spilling out as tears. The two boys became so focused on the song that they nearly forgot to breathe. 

“Isn’t Carlos’s singing just amazing? Your first piece of advice: Bring three handkerchiefs to these meetings.” 

A nearby older student who was dabbing at their eyes with a handkerchief offered Oliver and Pete handkerchiefs of their own. The two boys took them and did the same. 

“Sniff… Oliver, this…,” Pete managed to squeak out. 

“It’s an enchanted voice, yes. But it’s not a type of charm. It’s much purer, much cleaner—” 

It was all Oliver could do to make that hazy discernment; even he couldn’t grasp the truth behind Carlos’s voice. Most of all, the more boorishly suspicious he became, the more beautiful Carlos’s voice sounded. Before he knew it, five songs had passed in the blink of an eye. Carlos looked out into the crowd, a kind glimmer in their gaze, as the audience basked in the bliss of the faint remaining echoes. 

“Thank you for listening. Without you all, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy singing. But I know everyone’s been waiting to chat and mingle among yourselves, so now is that time. I’ll be right down to join you, so don’t hold back!” 

A storm of applause followed Carlos and the accompanying contrabass player off the stage. Once they were gone, the students began chatting among themselves as they wiped at their moistened eyes. 

“Hee-hee-hee! Don’t worry, we’re all friends here, Mr. Reston.” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone’s in the same boat.” 

“Let’s start with those of us who, like you, woke up one morning to find their dick gone.” 

“Oh, tell me about it! At first, I thought it had shriveled up and tucked itself inside me—” 

A wave of students surrounded them, with everyone talking at the same time. Pete was understandably overwhelmed, but Oliver stood by and didn’t interfere. He no longer felt any reason to be on guard around this group. 

Two hours later, the event finished, and Godfrey led them back to the campus. Oliver and Pete bid farewell to him, then walked along the path to the dorm in the night. 

“So…how was it? What’d you think?” Oliver asked hesitantly. Pete snorted. 

“You were there. You saw what happened… They’re all good people. I feel stupid for being so nervous and freezing up.” 

“I see. That’s good to hear.” 

“I got a lot of great advice, too. I feel a little more confident about dealing with this now. Not superconfident, mind you, but I think I’ll manage.” 

The bespectacled boy balled his fists. 

After a bit, Oliver spoke up again. “…What do we do about our room?” 

“…!” 

“Like they said at the event, you can report your status to the academy and be granted a private room. I think that’d be easier, at least when it comes to your everyday needs. But personally—” 

Before Oliver could continue, Pete raised a hand. 

“…You don’t have to say any more.” 

“Mm?” 

“I know—I know I can barely take care of myself at this academy… I don’t even want to think of spending the night alone at Kimberly. So please let me continue to be your roommate for the time being. Please.” 

Pete stopped and looked seriously at Oliver. Relief flooded into Oliver’s expression. 

“I’m really glad you said that. It’ll be easier to help you if we’re in the same room, too. If anything strange comes up, just let me know. No need to feel shy.” 

“…Thanks. But, um…” 

Pete stumbled over his next words. Oliver cocked his head, and his friend reddened and looked away. 

“…I’m putting up a curtain between our beds.” 

As the two boys proceeded toward the dorm, six instructors gathered in a secret room, shrouded in the deepest darkness of the campus. 

“Yo, everyone here?” 

“You’re late, Vanessa.” 

Esmeralda glared icily at the magical biology instructor as she entered the room without any sense of guilt. The headmistress and the other four instructors were sitting at a round table in the center of the room. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was busy catching this fella right here.” 

She tossed the mass she was carrying over her shoulder to the floor. It was a man bandaged from head to toe and covered in a ragged cloak, moaning in pain. 

“Unh… Mmf…” 

“He’s a pretty good locksmith. Managed to get through two barriers before I arrived. Shoulda known he’d end up like this, though. Congrats on the wasted effort, I guess?” Vanessa explained with contempt, then turned back to the other five. “So what now? Make him sing?” 

“We’re missing our best conductor, unfortunately. Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

“I haven’t much hope. He seems more likely to expire before he croaks his first note.” 

The two elderly instructors, Enrico and Gilchrist, offered their opinions, and everyone laughed, albeit a little awkwardly. 

“…Won’t…get away with this…,” the man crawling on the ground muttered, glowering at the demonic figures surrounding him. “…You won’t get…away with this forever. Your end is nigh, heretics! My body may expire, but that just brings our god closer to Earth! He will rain down a crueler punishment than any of you can imagine!” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m tired of hearing that one. Seriously, you’re gonna make me go deaf. So do I torture him, Headmistress?” Bored, Vanessa asked for direction. 

The answer came without any hesitation. 

“No. Eliminate him.” 

“You got it.” 

Immediately, Vanessa reached out an arm. Her muscles exploded in size, creating a palm that was large enough to cover an entire human. She snatched up her prey, and a chill went up the man’s spine as he sensed the warm, wet breathing on the back of his neck. There was a mouth inside the hand. 

“Eep! Ah! God! Oh god! Gyaaaaaaah!” 

The sound of teeth grinding down flesh and bone joined his screams. A few moments later, the hand was empty. Vanessa returned her arm to its normal size and moved to the table, frowning. 

“Blech, that was nasty. Why are these Order of the Sacred Light guys always so sinewy?” 

“It must be the diet they’re beholden to. Gnostics are always so unhealthy.” 

Enrico crossed his arms, troubled. Vanessa wiped the remaining blood from her hand. 

“Well, let’s get this show on the road. It’s about Darius, right?” 

She sat down and suddenly dove into the main topic. Of the six people around the table, an extraordinarily quiet man draped in a loose robe was the first to softly speak up. 

“It’s been four months since he disappeared. It’s safe to say he’s dead.” 

“Oh, how tragic,” the witch sitting next to Vanessa added. She was small, and her black outfit was worn with age. Esmeralda shook her head. 

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is the cause. Anyone have any clues?” she asked without a shred of sorrow for their lost ally. Vanessa shrugged. 

“Not a one. He was too strong to just disappear into the labyrinth and die. And the timing doesn’t seem right for him to have been consumed by the spell.” 

“In other words, someone killed him! That must be it! Kya-ha!” 

The old man, Enrico, laughed his mechanical laugh. Vanessa didn’t try to hide her annoyance. 

“Don’t ignore how urgent this situation is, old fart. Then again, you have a point. Which means it’s down to figuring out who killed Darius.” 

A predatory glint flickered in her eyes as she looked around the room. 

“Ain’t many who could have done the deed. The six of us, and… Who else? Young Garland? Oh, and that McFarlane bastard, too. He’s a mysterious one, he is. But I think we can rule you out, Headmistress. If you killed him, there’d be no point in hiding it. So…including me, how many suspects do we have?” 

Vanessa twisted her lips into a sneer. Opposite her, Gilchrist snorted. 

“This is all pointless conjecture. There’s no guarantee that Darius was killed in one-on-one combat.” 

“Of course, of course. So you think a bunch of skilled instructors ganged up on him? And if you happened to be leading them, why, Darius wouldn’t have stood a chance.” 

Vanessa’s tone was taunting. 

Gilchrist shot her a piercing glare, and suddenly, a flower vase in a corner of the room exploded. Even as the pieces scattered, no one turned to look. 

“Hmph. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of us was a traitor—but the fact is, that doesn’t line up with reality. I’m sure we’d all do much better in eliminating an opponent, no?” 

The elderly Enrico smiled knowingly. The black-clad witch seated next to Vanessa innocently cocked her head and remarked, “Aw, if it were me, I’d keep dear Darry’s corpse by my side forever.” 

She spoke of a fate worse than death. 

Vanessa shook her head. “But if we look elsewhere, we don’t have any suspects. Or what, did one of the students kill him?” 

She meant it as a bad joke, but Esmeralda quietly opened her mouth. 

“If, by some chance, a student did kill him, that would mean Darius was never fit to be a Kimberly instructor,” the headmistress said. “He was rightly culled. That’s all.” 

“Ain’t that the truth. But what if that’s not what happened?” Vanessa was enjoying herself now. 

Esmeralda clapped once, then addressed the room. “Then at least one of you has sided against me. If you’ve made your peace with that, then nothing else needs to be said.” 

The mages understood: She’d never cared about finding the killer. This was the real reason the headmistress had summoned them. 

“Yeaaah, count me out,” someone said lazily. 

Everyone silently looked to the ceiling—there stood an aloof-looking man, his trademark ringlet hair draped over his shoulders and not a speck of dust on his smart, prim outfit. 

“You’re back? You sure like being upside-down, don’t you?” asked Vanessa. 

“And you lot just love coming up with evil schemes. I wish you would at least be a little surprised. It was quite an ordeal getting this far without being noticed.” 

“Idiot. Who’d be surprised to see you on the ceiling at this point? It’d be more shocking if you politely knocked on the door,” Vanessa spat and shrugged. 

The old man at the table cackled with glee. “Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! More importantly, McFarlane, you aren’t a member of this group. Naughty, naughty. You may be the headmistress’s old friend, but even that doesn’t give you the right to intrude here.” 

As if on cue, the five instructors focused their malice on the man. Any normal mage would have had a heart attack from the pressure, but McFarlane took it in stride. He smiled. 

“Ah, you are completely right, of course, Master Enrico. Then would you like to try and remove me by force, like you did with that Gnostic?” 

Despite his laid-back attitude, he didn’t back down from a fight. The room, already fit to burst with venom, nearly exploded. 

“Quit stirring the pot with your foolish games, Theodore.” 

Esmeralda’s icy tone dumped a bucket—no, a lake’s worth of water onto the fire, instantly extinguishing the tension. Even Theodore, the man on the ceiling, straightened up. 

“Forgive me, Headmistress. It’s just my nature to stir the pot when it’s too settled.” 

“And I don’t expect you to change. Now sit. That’s an order.” 

“As you wish.” 

The man obeyed her order and sat down on the ceiling. He was mostly respectful, with only a hint of cheekiness—and a tinge of affection.