episode_0009

– Didn’t we agree to meet again in a week?

Beyond the communication device, the gaunt face of the Swordmaster—our unit leader—came into view.

For someone of his caliber, staying awake for a week straight wouldn’t even faze him.

Yet, after just a single day, he already looked like that.

It was genuinely concerning, but apparently, our dear prince wasn’t the one suffering.

“I wanted that too.”

I didn’t want to see the unit leader’s face every day either, but I had no choice.

If news of Prince Ellen’s first love had reduced him to such a state, how much worse would he become upon hearing about his rivals?

I let out a small sigh at the future I was about to witness.

– …What now?

His already defeated voice was pitiable, but the truth had to be told sooner or later.

Whether this world was a romance novel or not, that combination of people was bound to cause trouble.

“Well.”

I delivered the facts as they were.

Without a single shred of doubt that this world might be a romance novel, I recounted what I’d seen with my own eyes—no exaggerations.

– …Cut the bullsht.

And yet, a harsh curse slipped from the unit leader’s lips.

It was a word I’d never heard from him, not even once since he became an instructor.

Even when Lucia, his senior, submitted her resignation three times a week, insisting that “an unbreakable spirit is what truly matters.”

Even when I demanded a salary higher than his as a Swordmaster, joking that “this pay doesn’t match my worth.” He’d just laugh it off!

“Unfortunately, it’s the truth.”

– Lies! Please, tell me it’s a lie!

The unit leader pleaded as if begging for his life, but that didn’t change reality.

“You’ll feel better if you just accept it.”

– GAAAAAH!

The unit leader howled in despair at Prince Ellen’s first act of rebellion—despite the prince being such a well-behaved, talented student.

The tragic part? That lament and suffering weren’t his alone.

The moment communications were cut off, the news spread among the instructors and those involved.

And at the end of that chain? The Intelligence Division.

Then, the new information that started with the Intelligence Division would travel back up the chain—straight to the unit leader.

And at the end of that chain? Me.

Damn it, I should’ve retired when Prince Ellen first tackled Princess Hestia.

– …For now, here’s what we’ve uncovered.

Like this.

“Do I have to hear it?”

– Don’t ask stupid questions.

In just a day, they’d already investigated Daisy, a noble from a distant empire.

As expected of the Intelligence Division—they worked fast.

– Turns out she’s the daughter of a baron family even the empire treats like country bumpkins.

“I see.”

A fitting background for a classic romance novel heroine.

Most recent romance novels I remembered had heroines from ducal families, often with tragic pasts.

– It’s a mystery how she even got into the Imperial Academy—her background’s practically nonexistent.

“I see.”

Again, a typical setup for a romance novel heroine. There was usually some hidden backstory.

Maybe she wasn’t the baron’s real daughter. Maybe she’d been secretly trained by a legendary mage in her childhood.

Or perhaps, after enrolling, she’d awaken some extraordinary talent.

– The reason she joined the flower-arranging club? Just because she likes flowers. Apparently, daisies are the specialty of her family’s territory.

“How does a territory’s specialty become the young lady’s name…”

– Exactly. But her family’s apparently quite close-knit, so it’s not like they just slapped a random name on her.

The rest of the information didn’t seem particularly noteworthy.

Except for one thing.

– Until recently, the flower-arranging club only had two members: the club president and Lady Daisy.

The unit leader sighed at the “until yesterday” part, but the real issue lay elsewhere.

“There’s a separate club president?”

For a moment, I wondered if the purple-haired girl who looked like the heroine’s best friend was the president. But the unit leader’s next words made me grimace.

– Yeah. A fourth-year male student set to graduate this year is the president.

A guy… and another one at that?

Not just any guy—a senior?

– Luckily, he’s just a normal guy.

But normal didn’t mean safe.

If this world was a romance novel, the first guy connected to the heroine could never be normal.

“Give me his info.”

– There’s not much.

The unit leader’s report was disappointingly bland.

I was starting to think I’d been overanalyzing this world as a romance novel when—

– Oh, we also got his portrait.

“……”

This world really IS a romance novel!

I almost screamed it out loud.

Because, of course—

“He’s got squinty eyes.”

This bastard was a squinty-eyed character.

Imperial Public Academy, Fourth Year – Bellian Eric

Class had ended, but Eric couldn’t bring himself to leave the classroom.

“How did things turn out like this?”

As the third son of House Bellian, he’d been smart enough to enroll in the Imperial Academy.

For a minor noble family, sending a child here was an achievement.

His parents, brothers, and younger siblings had all pinned their hopes on him.

But after entering the academy, nothing life-changing happened.

His grades were average. Outside of academics, he had no notable talents.

Neither at home nor at the academy did he ever stand out.

His friendships were similarly unremarkable—just casual connections with similarly unremarkable students.

Still, there were people he’d grown close to: the seniors of the flower-arranging club.

A tiny club with fewer than ten members, always on the verge of disbandment.

That was why he liked it.

A place to meet casually, enjoy simple pleasures, yet still share a quiet camaraderie.

The club had faced closure multiple times due to its small size and lack of activities.

But each time they barely scraped by, the bond between members grew stronger.

“This is all the seniors’ fault.”

– It’s such a shame the flower-arranging club has to end like this.

After last year’s three seniors graduated, the club was set to disband.

It was inevitable.

No new members had joined since Bellian. And while the Imperial Academy was lenient with clubs,

they wouldn’t sustain a one-person club.

That regretful voice kept echoing in his mind, pushing Bellian to muster courage he’d never had before.

On enrollment day, in front of the auditorium where freshmen swarmed,

amidst countless clubs promoting themselves, Bellian gathered every ounce of his unused bravery and tried.

“The flower-arranging club?”

“Y-yes!”

There, by chance, he met a freshman.

Her name was Daisy—from House Parvan, a minor rural barony.

Something about her felt familiar.

Not just to him, but to the former club members too.

And when she said she loved flowers, he took it as fate guided by the goddess.

Even better—

“Can I bring my friend too?”

Astonishingly, she had a childhood friend who’d also enrolled.

With that, they’d meet the minimum requirement of three members.

Though minimum was the key word.

Maintaining a club with just three required some activity, but the flower-arranging club had survived on sheer stubbornness.

He’d been confident.

At least until his graduation, he could keep the club alive.

Someday, if he ever ran into the graduated seniors again,

he could proudly say he’d preserved the club until the very end!

“Was I wrong? Did I get too greedy?”

Everything had been fine up to that point.

Daisy and her childhood friend, Violet.

One guy, two girls.

An odd dynamic, but he’d become the lone male presence.

Yet Bellian harbored no ulterior motives—he just wanted them to experience the same simple joy he’d found in the club.

In the Imperial Academy, one of the few places where all four seasons could be felt,

they could observe flowers rarely seen elsewhere, arrange them to match the seasons,

and find beauty in the mundane.

Amidst an academy crowded with high nobles and geniuses,

he’d genuinely hoped they too could find this small, precious happiness.

“I’ll find more members!”

So when Daisy said that with enthusiasm, he’d smiled and thanked her.

Birds of a feather flock together, after all.

With no outstanding abilities and an unremarkable family,

he’d assumed anyone she brought would be just like them.

That was his mistake.

“New prospective member—Acid.”

Was there another freshman this year named Acid?

No, even if there was, could there possibly be another with white hair and red eyes?

When the imperial prince suddenly appeared, Bellian’s knees buckled halfway—

leaving him unsure whether to kneel fully or stand back up.

In that half-dazed state, he accepted the prince’s club application form,

returned to his dorm, slept, woke up, attended classes,

failed to take a single note, and zoned out through every lecture.

Maybe this is all a dream.

‘Yeah, it has to be.’

Even if his chances at the throne were slim, the succession hadn’t even been decided yet.

There was no way a busy prince would join the flower-arranging club of all places.

But when he entered the clubroom with that thought—

“These are our prospective new members!”

—Daisy’s cheerful smile greeted him, and the gates of hell swung wide open.

That was yesterday.

“Seniors… the flower-arranging club is now immortal.”

Sitting alone in the empty classroom, staring blankly at the blackboard, Bellian reflected.

One imperial prince.

One prince from the knight’s kingdom.

One prince from the mage’s kingdom.

The son of a border count who guarded the demon realm.

The grandson of the Sword Saint, known as the Little Sword Saint.

The heir to a merchant conglomerate that moved the continent’s economy.

And one club president—himself.

At this point, even if the student council stormed in, they could probably fend them off.

Hell, one of them could do it alone.

With this, the club wouldn’t face disbandment for at least four years.

“Should I just quit?”

But the flower-arranging club that once brought him peace was already dead.

It had died the moment the prince joined.

Even the imaginary versions of his seniors were going, “Uh, this is a bit much…” and running away.

“Right. I should graduate. Focus on studies and use that as an excuse to leave.”

Academics were his one decent skill, so he’d always put effort into them.

He’d already secured enough credits to graduate, but more wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t like he’d inherit his family anyway.

For someone from a no-name house, the only path to raising his worth was becoming an imperial civil servant!

“As for the club president role… if I tell Daisy, someone will take it.”

Among the male members, the Little Sword Saint was the least intimidating.

But being president in that group? He wouldn’t survive long.

“Hello, Senior?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

Just as he steeled himself and stepped out of the classroom,

as if lying in wait—no, he was definitely lying in wait—

a junior appeared out of nowhere.

“I have a lot of questions about the academy. Could you spare a moment for advice?”

No.

He wanted to say it, but after recent events, Bellian’s danger-sensing instincts had sharpened.

This wasn’t a request—it was an order.

“S-sure.”

Back when Bellian was a freshman, a first-year would never dare order a fourth-year around.

‘But times have changed!’

With the Sword Saint and the former Tower Master as head professors,

this year’s freshmen marked the beginning of the Imperial Academy’s golden age.

He didn’t need to look far—just recalling yesterday’s clubroom was enough.

So when the junior brought two teas to the academy café, Bellian watched him nervously.

“Ah, I haven’t introduced myself yet. Adam Smith, from the Kingdom of Leon.”

“……”

He’d heard that name before.

On the Sword Saint’s first day of class, it belonged to the monster who’d effortlessly defeated the Little Sword Saint.

“I hate long-winded talk, so I’ll cut to the chase. Our prince joined your club, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Just… take good care of him.”

Wait, I’m quitting though.

“He’s… pretty shy. Doesn’t get along well with others. If someone like you, the club president, could lend a hand…”

No, I’m REALLY quitting!

“Uh… sure.”

But the words that left his mouth betrayed his thoughts.

“Welcome back, Club President!”

Like a cow led to slaughter, he had no choice but to return to the flower-arranging club.