Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

193 – Side Story. Valentine

It’s an unfamiliar ceiling.

That was the feeling Erdena Valentine

felt the moment she opened her eyes.

‘..Where is this?’

Not the elegant and beautiful ceiling

she usually woke up to, but some other place.

Just like a room of common folk,

a ceiling of plain, unremarkable color.

To her eyes, accustomed to daily glimpses of treasures and

jewels, it seemed endlessly wretched.

So too, the blanket that had covered her,

as she rose from the bed.

Far from being cozy,

she’d be fortunate if it were merely comfortable.

As she threw off the blanket that had so carefully

warmed her chest,

she slowly sat up, and

there was a gaze watching her from the side.

“Awake, are we?”

For a moment, Ardelia wondered if the

male students who had accompanied her

had been looking after her all this time, and she whipped her head around.

But she realized too late that the voice from just then was

far too gravelly to belong to a student.

And as expected, the

person sitting beside her

was none other than Professor Oliver.

However troublesome she may be, she was still a student,

moreover, a student injured

in his class, and as such,

Professor Oliver believed that he absolutely

could not abandon his post.

Postponing all other matters that might arise,

he had remained by her side

until now, caring for her.

“…Professor? Where…where am I?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Huh? What are you…”

“…Next time, I must certainly tell you to

take it a little easier.”

“…Ah.”

Only then did she remember.

That she disliked this smell of medicine…

Why she was in this overflowing place,

and why her entire body ached as if it were coming apart…

She remembered everything.

“That man…!!”

*Grind*

The sound of her teeth grinding,

rang out so loudly that it

reached even Professor Oliver,

who stood beside her, and

the more it rang, the more her fury intensified.

Everything was ruined.

All her plans.

The grand scheme of slowly

washing away the family’s disgrace

by building her own faction

from within the Academy,

was shattered to pieces

by the hands of some Academy senior,

whose origins she hadn’t even heard of.

She didn’t want to admit it.

Couldn’t admit it, and refused to admit it.

In every contest until now,

she had consistently overwhelmed

her opponents with her own

fierce power, making it all the more unacceptable.

To have her future blocked

by nothing more than an Academy senior,

meant that washing away the

family’s disgrace was out of the question.

It would be fortunate if she didn’t add another stain.

Throb—

It was ironic that what stopped

her from lying there any longer,

was her own wrist,

which wasn’t seriously injured, but

clearly couldn’t be moved as she pleased,

which meant there was no way

to exact revenge on that senior,

even if she tried to move right now.

After all, it had been a fair duel.

She… accepted this outcome?

She had no intention of disobeying,

and even less desire to wallow in self-pity with ugly behavior.

But, revenge… she craved it.

It wasn’t that she refused to accept the result,

but at least a rematch,

surely that wasn’t outside the realm of possibility?

Furthermore, according to what she had heard from the professor,

those upperclassmen would

always be with them in their lessons from now on,

so opportunities would be more than plentiful,

overflowing, even, it was clear.

‘…But how do I win?’

Yes, that was the problem.

Just how could she

defeat that upperclassman?

Well, frankly, if she used methods

outside the bounds of sparring, it would be easy enough.

Unleashing the people of her house to

take care of an arm or a leg, perhaps,

would certainly guarantee an easy win in any sparring that followed.

However, her pride

would never allow it,

and there was no justification, either,

so she couldn’t wield the power of her house.

She had clearly agreed to that special class.

Of course, if she had known the situation would

degrade to this extent,

she would never have agreed,

but back then, she had been

so confident, believing no one could beat her,

swaggering around with all sorts of leeway,

so she could only blame

her own complacency of the past,

and rack her brains.

“Ughhh…”

“Still hurting? Hmm…

At this rate, further lessons will—”

“No!!”

“…You’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

A lie, of course.

Even now, this very instant,

several joints ached and throbbed.

But even so, it wasn’t

worth missing class over.

Who knew how *that man*

would see her if she skipped?

‘What? That *girl*, she said she’s sick

and won’t be coming to class?’

‘Yes, from now on, maybe

go a little easier on her, she’s pitiful.’

‘Haha, I never knew she’d be

so weak though!!’

“aaargh!!”

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

Though it might just be

a vain delusion of hers,

just imagining it sent shivers crawling all over her skin,

and she absolutely did *not*

want to see that kind of sight with her own eyes,

so she firmly resolved to

attend the lesson without fail.

Even if her body wasn’t

moving as she wanted right now,

she could manage to listen to the lecture

and maybe even a light spar or two.

“Professor, when is the next lesson?”

“…The next lesson?”

“Yes, by then I’ll definitely

somehow get stronger so next time—”

“I’m sorry, but you

cannot participate in the next class.”

But that was just her own thinking;

Professor Oliver absolutely

had no intention of letting her join the next class.

He knew far too well

what kind of things could

happen down the line if one were to

skip healing an injury properly.

Having lost a child himself,

and as a professor who

must prioritize the safety of his students above all else,

he vowed never to allow her back

into his next class.

No matter how much she pleaded,

that much would remain unchanged.

“Professor…I’m really,

truly feeling better now? I can even run like this…”

“It’s no good. If something

were to happen to you here,

the position of us professors

would become quite precarious.”

“…”

“Especially since you’re the

daughter of a Marquis; the repercussions would be even greater.”

“..But still!”

“What’s not possible is simply not possible.”

No matter how much she begged and pleaded,

he could not allow her to participate in the next class.

After such a resolute reply, as sharp as wood or steel,

it was, as expected,

Ardena who yielded first.

Even if she were to cling to him annoyingly beyond this,

it would surely only appear to the professor as

nothing more than a child’s temper tantrum.

“Of course, I intend to

give that fellow a warning too.

He was rougher than I expected, really…”

“That upperclassman…!”

“..Hm?”

“Could you perhaps,

tell me that upperclassman’s name?!”

Still, she didn’t want to back down like this.

Even if only for matters later on,

she wanted to at least find out his name.

Seeing her like that,

Professor Oliver relented as if defeated,

raising both his hands as he rose from his seat.

He then handed her a piece of paper.

“That fellow wrote this note for you after you collapsed.”

“He left it behind, said ‘Read it.'”

“Huh…? Uh… no, first

tell me that senior’s name…!”

“It’s all in there.”

*Screech-*

Just like that, the infirmary door closed, and

it seemed like the potent

scent of medicine had faded slightly.

“It’s in here…?”

She even wondered if it might be some kind of

scroll imbued with magic,

but no matter how much she examined

both sides, turning it this way and that,

she couldn’t find any circuits.

All that caught her eye were

black letters.

Black letters on white paper.

Letters that looked as if someone had

hastily scribbled them,

asserting their presence

within the pristine white expanse.

[If you happen to be in too much

pain later, please come find this place.

If you really can’t find it,

you can also look for someone

named Jennison from Class A.]

“…Huh?”

She had naturally assumed that

it was a letter sent to apologize,

but contrary to her expectations,

the only thing written

on the paper was that.

Nothing about it being a good spar,

or her lackluster skills,

or even a sincere apology

for hurting her.

Just a cold, unfeeling invitation to

come find him if she happened to be in pain.

Of course, the injury had occurred

during a mutually agreed-upon spar, so

she had no intention of arguing about it right then, but…

It displeased her, in its own way.

A feeling that she’d become some kind of fragile thing, needing protection.

A part of her, however small,

had hoped he might have found their sparring…

impressive, at least.

This news struck her like a bolt from a clear sky.

If she was worthy of this much concern,

then the gulf in skill was

even wider than she’d sensed in that match.

She’d thought she could reach him.

She couldn’t, it seemed.

And definitively so.

“Eeeeeek…!!”

A small fit of temper seized her.

She crumpled the paper in her hand,

then threw it straight into the trash bin

beside her bed, before pulling the blanket over her head.

She vowed to herself, once she recovered,

she would seek out the address written on that paper.

“Just you wait..!!”