Chapter 5: Class Placement Exam Part 4

I became part of Class F.

I would dedicate all this glory to those bastards who had made my life difficult. Be it Princess Lobelia, Ariel, and that dog Dietrich who stabbed me with a sword.

Fortunately, I ended up in Class F, but it still wasn’t the worst-case scenario.

After all, no one plans with only one possibility in mind. And I too was someone who knew how to do the obvious.

To begin with, the assumption that I would pass the survival exam was never a 100% guaranteed plan.

I could’ve been eliminated just by getting hit with a stray arrow. I had even prepared for such situations.

Of course, I never imagined my written score would fall short…

Anyway, it was time for Plan B.

Ahem! Cough, sniff! Hehehe… Sniffle. Sob! Sob, sob!

First, I cleared my throat.

From now on, I needed to appeal with more emotion than anything else.

Of course, if I added a bit of exaggeration, that would make it even better.

“G-Good. This should do…”

Inside the dorm room.

As I tidied the books piled on the desk, I searched for a mirror I hadn’t used in a while.

It wasn’t just any ordinary mirror.

It was an alchemically crafted device. A communication tool linked directly to House Damus. It was commonly known as the “Silver Mirror”.

As the name suggested, it was made from real silver. It was a luxury item commoners couldn’t even dream of owning.

Though I called it a telephone, it only connected to one matching mirror. It was easier to think of it as a long-distance, single-line phone.

Swish—

I rubbed the gemstones attached to the edge of the mirror in a specific sequence, and the mirror began to glow.

With that, the Silver Mirror’s lock was released, and it would now be sending a signal to the mirror on the other side.

After the mirror blinked several times, the image of my father, Samuel Damus, finally appeared through it.

“Yes, my son. What’s the matter…?”

“Waaaahhh! Father! Fatherrrrr!”

I was feeling wronged.

Utterly and tremendously wronged.

I was so overwhelmed with injustice that the moment I saw my father, my emotions surged and I couldn’t hold back my tears.

Just as I had prepared beforehand, I slipped right into method acting and stuck to the concept I had memorized.

“Sniff! Hic…”

“Oh dear, my son.”

“F-Father…”

My father’s voice started off solemn, then turned bitter.

Did it work?

“Stop pretending to cry and get to the point already.”

“…Didn’t work.”

“My son, you’ve pulled this stunt five times already. Did you really think it would work again? Do you take me for a fool?”

“You haven’t granted a single one of my requests out of those five. How can you be so cold-hearted?”

“A request is only valid if it’s worth making. So? What’s this nonsense you’re trying to butter me up for this time?”

“It’s something important.”

“When has it not been important? That phrase is basically your version of ‘hello’, so stop wasting time with pointless setups.”

“Yes, Father.”

Nobles were said to have blue blood.

Maybe that’s why my father’s words were so cold and unrelenting. But I suppressed the pain in my heart and began my appeal.

“I want to quit the Cradle.”

“Then just do so.”

“What happened was… Wait, really? I can?”

“If that’s the choice Sir Johan is making, who am I to stop you?”

“……”

Ah, no. This won’t do.

That was basically a threat of being disowned, cleverly disguised in sentence structure.

You could clearly sense the implied “…not that it matters anymore, since you’re not family” tacked on silently behind his words.

“Well, at least hear me out…”

“I’ve heard it all for half a year. And for half a year, I’ve said no.”

“Father, you’re being cruel.”

This whole year.

Of course, there was no way I had planned to quietly continue attending the Cradle.

There was no reason to stay, especially when there had already been 22 terrorist attacks in just one year.

“How can you care only about the family name when your own son’s life is on the line?”

I wanted to drop out.

At the very least, I wanted to take a leave of absence.

But all I got in return was my father’s answer that he would strike me from the family registry.

The reason? Completely ridiculous.

“You’re saying that ridiculous noble title matters more than your own son’s life?!”

“If you’re willing to give up that ridiculous noble title on your own, then go ahead and drop out.”

It was because the emperor who was obsessed with pride and prestige had declared that any noble student who withdrew from the Cradle no longer deserved their noble status.

Apparently, they were worse than commoners who chose to stay in danger just to keep learning.

Never mind that it was all his own fault for starting a pointless conquest war in the first place.

No wonder the crown prince had renounced his position, and now the imperial heirs, including Lobelia, were tearing each other apart in a power struggle.

Anyway, thanks to the emperor’s stubbornness, any noble who tried to leave or pause their studies at the Cradle ended up being stripped of their title.

“I mean, if I lose even the family’s backing, I won’t just die on the streets, I’ll be assassinated.”

The emperor was already watching the noble students like a hawk, and on top of that, I’d be disowned by my own family?

That would be enough to get my head chopped off for defying imperial authority. A former noble student with no protection wouldn’t be much of a concern for him.

With just the flick of a finger, a whole crowd of assassins would come swarming.

“Well, that would be unfortunate.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“This kid… there’s nothing he won’t say to his father. Haaah, it must be so hard for you. If swearing at me helps ease your heart, then go ahead—curse all you want, my son.”

“So, are you saying it’s still a no?”

“Yes. I don’t even understand why you want to drop out after holding on so well all this time. Didn’t Lady Olga Hermod just take over as Headmistress? With her there, is there anywhere safer?”

“That’s true, but…”

“You were the one who chose to enter the Cradle at this time in the first place.”

“That’s…!”

Noble students were required to attend the Cradle as part of compulsory education, but there was a bit of leeway in deciding when they enrolled.

Which made perfect sense.

Unlike commoners who only had to show up, nobles had countless things to prepare before entering.

So yes, choosing this particular timing had been my own decision. In fact, my father had tried to stop me at first, saying it was too dangerous.

But…

“…That was a choice I made to save Chris.”

“Yes, it was.”

I had a younger brother.

Since childhood, he’d been frail. He spent more time in bed than playing outside.

My sweet, kind little brother, Chris.

And I had wanted to save him. That’s why I had to make that choice.

I needed medicine that could heal his fragile body as soon as possible.

And the only place that made that possible was the Cradle.

It was the only institution with an abundance of experts in every field.

Even with all its incidents and accidents, it still claimed to be the Empire’s best.

The support we could receive there was on another level. And that support only increased during times of unrest.

They had no choice but to pour in money just to quiet the complaints of the parents.

It was the kind of funding that could drive a Headmaster of thirty years to the brink.

Even if someone had skimmed a bit off the top, the support provided would still have been more than enough.

What’s more, the more students were injured in the terror attacks, the greater the demand for medical supplies became, and support for alchemy increased even further.

“How is Mother?”

“…Don’t worry about your mother. She’s doing well.”

“So the fact that she still hasn’t sent me a single message must mean she’s still upset with me.”

“Johan.”

“That was out of line.”

I had created a potion to save Chris. I had studied alchemy like a madman and poured every bit of the support that rained down from above into my work.

But in the end, what came of it? What happened to the boy who had been loved by everyone in the family because of the potion I made?

“I understand. In any case, you’re saying dropping out is out of the question, right?”

“If you need any other support, just say the word. I’ll provide whatever you need.”

“I don’t need anything in particular.”

The Chris Damus I remembered no longer existed.

I was the one who made him that way.

Maybe I was paying the price for it now.

***

By the time Lobelia began keeping an eye on Johan, she had already started digging into his background.

And today was the day.

The first intelligence report on Johan Damus, compiled by her informants, had arrived.

As Lobelia skimmed through the documents, she glanced sideways at Ariel who still wore a sulky expression and let out a small laugh as she spoke.

“He worked pretty hard in the first semester. In alchemy, he ranked among the top five in the whole first year.”

“Fairly diligent, it seems. But now he’s in Class F. Ugh, that guy’s single-handedly dragging down the noble reputation.”

“But then, suddenly, his grades in the second semester plummeted. As if he’d completely lost interest in alchemy.”

“Guess he didn’t have much perseverance, huh?”

“No, that’s not it, Ariel. In cases like this, there’s always a reason. You don’t just suddenly give up on something you once studied like a man possessed.”

Lobelia flipped through the documents again, then paused at a certain section.

“At this level, it’s more accurate to say he no longer needed to. It’s easier to assume that he threw himself into it so desperately in the first place because he had a reason.”

“…A reason?”

“That’s right.”

Lobelia handed one of the documents she had been reviewing to Ariel. Though hesitant, Ariel accepted it with both hands and began to look it over.

“He has a younger sibling. One suffering from an incurable disease.”

“No way…”

“When you think about it, it’s strange. Even if they live in the provinces, they’re still a count’s family. Is it really believable that a noble child like that would eat alone without even a single attendant?”

“……”

Ariel’s body stiffened.

A trace of sympathy flickered in her red eyes as she scanned the document.

The alchemy he had clung to like a madman.

The younger sibling, weakened by an incurable illness.

The image of him eating alone without a single attendant as if he were hated by everyone in his family.

“Johan Damus seems to have earned his mother’s hatred because of that incident.”

“Ah…!”

Ariel covered her mouth.

Had she, perhaps, unknowingly touched the wounds of someone who had been pretending all along to be fine?

Wounds like that….of course anyone would want to keep them hidden.

“Wh-What have I done…”

“Ariel.”

Tears began to well up and fall like droplets.

Overwhelmed with guilt, Ariel burst into tears and ran out of the room.

As Lobelia watched her go, she finally lowered her head.

“Your Highness.”

“Yes.”

At that moment, a boy who had been silent behind Lobelia stepped forward.

Stan Robinhood, one of Lobelia’s closest aides.

He glanced at the document Lobelia was holding and spoke.

“It says here that Johan Damus’s younger brother is alive and well.”

“That’s right. In fact, he has even recovered his health.”

“Well, I suppose he must’ve taken the wrong medicine or something. Seems like there were some side effects.”

“You’ve heard of it too, haven’t you?”

Lobelia, unable to hold back her laughter any longer, finally burst out giggling as she spoke.

“You know, how people say that those with a big frame often took the wrong medicine when they were young, and now gain weight just by eating a little.”

“My uncle’s exactly like that. He loses his temper quite often.”

“Looks like it was that kind of side effect.”

“Oh dear.”

Lobelia picked up the document Ariel had dropped as she ran out.

It showed a picture of Johan Damus’s younger brother, Chris.

A beautiful boy with a delicate, dreamlike aura. He was so fragile he looked as though he’d shatter like glass if touched.

If he had grown up just like that, he surely would have stirred the hearts of countless women.

But that boy no longer existed. All because of Johan Damus.

Lobelia looked over the very last page of the document and murmured,

“If my own cute boy suddenly turned into a savage warrior dashing across vast plains overnight, even I might’ve started resenting the eldest son a little.”

There, a battle-hardened warrior with a body of solid muscle was depicted.

The age of that muscle-bound boy.

He was eleven this year.

***

With Plan B having failed, it was time to move on to Plan C.

To be honest, the chances of Plan B working had been slim from the start.

I mean, if it hadn’t worked during the past six months of repeatedly saying I wanted to quit, there was no way it would work now that things had actually gotten better.

“What a shame I couldn’t even explain the reason… No, wait. Maybe it’s a good thing. I saved time.”

The truth is, I didn’t really have a rational reason anyway. I was planning to push forward on emotion alone, but I failed before I could even set the emotional tone, so that was that.

Now, it was time to decide how to survive the inescapable swamp that was Class F.

At this point, getting out of Class F was impossible.

I couldn’t drop out, and the Headmistress was forcing me to choose between Class S and Class F. What could someone powerless like me possibly do?

I guess the only silver lining is that at least I was given the illusion of choice. I had considered various countermeasures for Class F, but being in Class S? That was never even on the table.

So, now that avoiding Class F was no longer an option, what should I do?

“Maybe it’s time to show a little presence for once.”

What else? A head-on charge.

I knew many possible futures, but I’d never really interfered in them.

I figured it would be a hassle if the future changed and I didn’t want the extra attention that would come with it.

In other words, I had no particular aversion to the act of changing the future itself.

Who cares what happens to the main character’s future? I need to survive first.

Click!

Now that I’d set my course of action, there was nothing left to hesitate over.

I deliberately flung open the door to Class F with a loud bang.

The moment everyone’s eyes turned to me.

Now then, what kind of first impression should I make?

Hmm… yeah, this’ll do.

“What are you looking at?”

I descend upon this place.

Let me make a formal declaration for the pathetic mutts wallowing in inferiority, whining about the difference in status.

“Never seen a noble before?”

There was no one more pathetic than me. You frauds.

Class F’s only noble.

The Scum.

Johan Damus was entering.