A Voluminous Secret

The seniors called out the daughters of Dukes and Marquises, and the slapping began. It was a preemptive strike, a forceful way to turn their cheeks crimson so that any thought of collective resistance would be nipped in the bud.

“Not reading the room, are we?”

Getting slapped during the freshman assembly on the very first day—talk about a brutal welcome. These noble ladies were all princesses in their own territories, so they didn’t know how to bow. I’d heard rumors of these “hazing” traditions practiced by seniors to break their spirits.

“By what authority are you doing this—ack!”

A Duke’s daughter tried to protest, but the other seniors nearby tripped her and slammed her face into the floor.

Impressive.

They weren’t seniors for nothing; their suppression was swift. A noble lady would likely never have her face pressed into the dirt unless she was being led to the chopping block. They were strong.

“Why did only the daughters of Barons move their applications? If your family status is low, are you not allowed to learn? Are you not allowed to compete?”

“I—I didn’t say anything… ack!”

When a lady who hadn’t spoken up tried to voice her unfairness, they tripped her too and stepped on her.

“What do you mean you didn’t say anything? You gave them ‘the look,’ didn’t you? A look that screamed, ‘You pathetic Baronial brats better withdraw your applications’?”

“No, that’s not—aaah!”

They grabbed her by the hair, yanked her back, and delivered a sharp slap.

“You need an education, don’t you? I wonder how much instruction it’ll take for you to snap out of it.”

Quite the “true education” they’re dealing out.

Seeing this scene, which felt like a military barracks from the dark ages, left me momentarily stunned. In my past life, I had a female friend in nursing school who used to complain about the toxic seniority culture, and this wasn’t much different. Wherever people gather—where there’s a hierarchy and power—things end up looking the same.

“Don’t hit their faces. If they get kicked out of here, they’ll be married off like sold goods. Their faces need to stay intact.”

…And with that remark, the trampling continued. I wondered if being born a noble lady usually involved getting mobbed like this.

“Even if you’re a Duke’s daughter or a Baron’s daughter, you are all equal within your grade.”

I’d had a feeling when they emphasized that earlier. It meant that instead of your existing status, the newly established school rules would govern the Academy. Normally, that should be impossible. Academy life is only four years, and after graduation, you go back to the normal hierarchy of titles.

However, in this Imperial class, there is a transcendent being: the war hero and future Empress. In her presence, all social standings become meaningless. Everyone here entered the Academy wanting to become a knight, a commander, a mage, or a bureaucrat to serve the state. No matter what degree you get, the ultimate employer is the Emperor.

Therefore, looking good in the eyes of the Princess is more important than the actual learning. And if that Princess wants the school rules followed, everyone follows them. From an educational standpoint, the beating was irrational, but in a way, it was almost better. I had just witnessed the high-ranking ladies trying to usurp the learning opportunities of the Baronial ladies right in front of me.

“Now that I think about it, I heard some of you didn’t even answer, right? Everyone, stand up and come forward.”

The seniors lined up the first-years. Then they started hitting. Had totalitarianism been grafted onto the students because they were a defeated nation? Or was it always like this? I figured I’d have to take my licks too, so I stepped forward obediently.

But then…

The face of one of the seniors—the one who was hitting the rebellious students particularly hard and had led the lynch-mobbing of the Duke’s daughter—looked familiar.

“You’re tall. Should I hit this one too? Did you tell them she signed up for the Knight Course?”

“I already did.”

A surge of rage boiled up, but I managed to suppress it. I saw the ring on her finger. That was the Ring of Protection I had given to my younger sisters. I recognized her face, too.

The girl who had been grinning while cutting off my sisters’ fingers at the scene of the murder.

The daughter of Baron Girona of the Empire. I had watched this girl’s face—and the reflection in her pupils—dozens of times through the recording magic tool.

“You’ve got a pretty face.”

“…Thank you.”

She didn’t deliver the harsh blow she’d given the others. She just gave my cheek a light pat and moved on. I was genuinely relieved. If she had actually hit me, I think I would have flipped the whole room.

I wanted to tear her apart right then and there, but a mere Baron’s daughter couldn’t be the mastermind behind a conspiracy involving the murder of a Count’s daughters and the cover-up within Sky Castle. She was likely just a perpetrator. I planned to watch her, dig up information, and then erase her.

“Ack!”

“Kyaaaaah!”

Between the sounds of the beating and the screams, a distinct sound rang out.

Click, clack.

The sound of footsteps was particularly sharp as a lady entered the classroom.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“Greetings.”

“Right.”

“Everyone, greet her.”

She seemed to be even more senior than the others, as the seniors bowed with proper formality. Then, they forced the freshmen to greet her. As I was about to bring my hands together to adopt a polite posture—like a child in kindergarten—the lady with the loud footsteps waved her hand.

“Forget that. I heard a Countess enrolled this year instead of a young lady. Who is it? The one who signed up for the Knight Course.”

“Ah, you mean Countess Aosta. The tallest one among the freshmen over there.”

Judging by the sound, she was wearing heels, yet she was still a head shorter than me.

“Is it you?”

“Yes, Senior.”

I greeted her politely according to etiquette.

“Ariang Aosta?”

“Yes.”

Did she know Ariang? The lady, whose sword hanging at her waist was so long it almost touched the ground despite her heels, looked me up and down with a suspicious expression.

“You don’t look like the rumors. They said you looked very strong.”

Rumors like that did circulate. Even living in the neighboring kingdom, I’d chuckled when I heard them. After capturing her, I realized she was just good at not crying. Though, eventually, I made her cry anyway.

“I apologize.”

I never experienced Academy life because the war broke out right when I should have enrolled and I was called to the front. However, I’m quite used to this brand of “social life.” Having lived as a noble for nearly twenty years, I thought I’d adapted to the natural arrogance of the upper class, but it turns out I adapt to being the underdog surprisingly well, too.

Back in the Kingdom, I was known as a man of character with a humble streak—an image that had the side effect of making the King and the Dukes all think highly of me. I’m actually very good at playing the “subordinate” role.

“Follow me.”

“Yes.”

“I can take her, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

While the first-years were still being scolded, the sword-bearing lady led me away.

“Hand.”

“Pardon?”

I offered my hand like a dog putting its paw on a palm. It seems I did it right. The lady, walking with a click-clack rhythm, inspected the back of my hand and stared at my face.

“The rumors… they’re lies.”

“Excuse me?”

“These aren’t the hands of someone who has swung a sword.”

That’s because I’ve never used a sword. And I’ve never met an opponent who could actually injure my hands.

“That is…”

“Rumors can lie, but hands cannot.”

The original owner, Ariang, used a sword a bit, but I don’t use them much. I didn’t learn because it was too complicated. Fundamentally, power comes from weight and speed. I could swing a war hammer—heavy even with two hands—faster than a wooden stick. After surviving so much real combat, my skills improved naturally, so it was never an issue.

“Your face doesn’t lie, either. You look like you couldn’t even stand the sight of blood, let alone be a knight. Are you really that Ariang?”

Now that I look at her, this senior’s hands are covered in scars instead of jewelry. Her hairstyle is pretty but looks intentional. Strands of hair were sticking out at the sides, poking her cheeks. It didn’t look like it was styled with product; it was more like she was using her hair to cover her cheeks and ears.

“I am sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For not living up to the rumors.”

When I lowered my head, the small lady actually patted me on the back.

“No, it’s understandable. Your place is a mountainous area where Kingdom bandits are always looking for a chance to cross over, right?”

She used the word “bandits” to describe the Kingdom, but the rest of her speech had a certain grace to it.

“That is correct.”

“But if a female Countess is guarding it, imagine how much more they’d look down on you. You can’t let them do that. If you look weak, they’ll criticize you for being a soft mage who stays inside the castle. The naturalized mountain people living outside the walls would mock you for being a fragile ruler who can’t protect them.”

“You’re right.”

“You’re completely frozen.”

I was trying to show the typical look of a nervous freshman, but I guess it worked too well. Most of these ladies probably came here expecting a pleasant school life—meeting friends and learning magic in a city floating in the blue sky. To see a beating instead? It was enough to make anyone freeze.

“Still, I guess you just haven’t seen real combat. Looking at your calluses, you’ve definitely swung something a lot, haven’t you?”

“Ah, yes. That’s true.”

“Did you come here because you want to learn more?”

“Yes.”

“No—did you come because you want to be stronger?”

I came because I wanted to be stronger. I came because I wanted to learn. For an Academy student, there is no better justification than that.

“Yes. I want to be stronger.”

“I have my own share of rumors, but I do know my way around a sword.”

“Are you by any chance the Lady of the Duchy of Le Havre?”

“So you know me.”

Rene de Le Havre. A lady from the Duchy of Le Havre on the northwestern coast of the Empire, the furthest point from the front lines in the last war. The Le Havre family only joined the war toward the end, claiming they had to defend against sea-raiders, but I heard the Lady of the Duchy served the Princess—the Empire’s war hero—and earned quite a bit of merit in the final stages.

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to meet you. The one who accompanied the Princess…”

“The hero is the Princess.”

“Still, I truly wanted to see you. When I saw you in the murals, it was really…”

I mixed in some flattery. She was a key figure on the Imperial side who had participated in the war at a very young age. Since I intended to stay undercover and perform suspicious deeds, bringing an important person over to my side would lessen the consequences later.

“You’re tall and have long arms; I think you’ll do well.”

It felt like being scouted for a failing sports team. Seeing as the Magic track was full while the Knight track was empty, it seemed they didn’t have many juniors joining.

While we were talking off to the side, the perpetrator who had been beating the first-years approached us.

“Senior Le Havre.”

“Yes, Girona. What is it?”

“Are you taking her right away?”

“Doesn’t she look like she’d be good? A student I like has finally joined.”

“She’s… how should I put it? Unlike the rumors, she’s quite feminine. She’s got a big frame, but she doesn’t look like she’d be very agile.”

Where are you looking while you say that?

Did I put too many in?

I’m on the slender side for a man, and I’ve never met anyone who called me a man after seeing my face, but I had underestimated these noble ladies. There wasn’t a single lady here who didn’t have an S-line achieved through a cinched corset. I wondered if they’d spent the time before enrollment dieting instead of studying.

Standing among them, I looked like a female athlete. My shoulders were broad, so I thought I needed more volume in the chest to make the dress look natural. As a result, I’d put in even more than Ariang had suggested. Ariang, it seems, had known her limits better than I did.

“What has this girl been eating to grow this much?”

“Well, she has a large frame.”

The problem was that I looked large all over. Both the first-years and the third-years doing the beating were small and thin.

“I heard weapon training makes the chest firm. Let’s see…”

I froze. I never in my wildest dreams imagined a hand would come there.

And then she started groping. Wasn’t this a school where skin-to-skin contact was strictly forbidden? Here?

“Wait, what’s this? This kind of underwear… oh my?”

“Ah…”

Pop.

And then, one of the overused pads began to stick out, followed by a steady stream of them sliding out.

…I really should have stopped putting them in.