episode_0059

“Welcome, Eric.”

“It’s been a while, Young Master Grave.”

“Long time no see.”

Cecilia, smiling brightly; Dave, offering an awkward grin; and Sheryl, slumped over the desk with only a half-hearted wave as if annoyed—the entire team for the Magical Sociology assignment had gathered around the same table.

The moment I took my seat, Dave abruptly stood up and bowed deeply toward me.

“I sincerely thank you for saving me back then—”

“Enough. Sit down. Do you want to announce to the whole classroom what we did?”

“Ah.”

“The important matters can wait.”

“She’s right, Miss Sheryl. Our plans must never reach the ears of other students.”

“A slight thrill…!”

“And more importantly, there’s something else we need to discuss, isn’t there?”

Cecilia looked at me with a smile and asked clearly.

“So, Eric, why were you late?”

“Sorry. Got held up a bit.”

“It’s fine. What I want isn’t an apology—it’s what happened. You barely made it back by class time.”

“Lunch break. Plenty of time.”

As Sheryl said, the academy’s break periods, including mealtime, are extremely lenient. The classes are already high-density and compressed, and the students attending them are exceptional.

Because of this, the academy prioritizes ensuring students’ free leisure time over pointlessly extending class hours, believing it aids their growth. In fact, lunch breaks alone stretch close to three hours to accommodate students using the dining hall.

So Sheryl’s remark was valid.

“She’s right. Was there a reason you were late enough to miss class?”

“……”

“Eric?”

“…I mooched off the president. I only meant to grab food from the dining hall, but I got dragged around and ended up a little late.”

“The president? You don’t mean President Saisi, do you?”

“Who else at this academy holds that title?”

“Shocking.”

“Right? What on earth possessed that free-spirited person to have a meal with you? And just the two of you?”

Cecilia eyed me suspiciously.

“It’s a long story—”

“Tell us.”

“We didn’t gather here for that, did we?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I also see this as an opportunity to learn more about the president.”

Dave and Sheryl, whom I’d expected to side with me, instead wore expressions of keen interest, ready to listen.

“Seriously?”

“How many people do you think actually know the president well? Don’t get the wrong idea, Eric. It’s only because it’s you or me that we can talk to her so casually.”

“True enough.”

“……”

Seeing my silence, Cecilia dropped a single line.

“Should I tell Chris and the others that you had a meal alone with the president? I bet their reactions would be hilarious.”

You little—

With a sigh, I began speaking.

——

“……”

It was one thing to discard Chris’ lunchbox and steel myself to distance from her, but the very real agony of hunger was something even I couldn’t resist surrendering to.

I considered abandoning my humanity, but at the last moment, the face of my savior flickered in my mind.

So without hesitation, I headed to the student council room, where I found the president, as usual, buried in work.

“Hm! It’s been a while.”

“A while? It hasn’t even been a week since we last met.”

“And as a fellow council member, you’ve been absent for nearly that long. Should I not be concerned? You don’t realize how grave your mistake is, tsk tsk…”

“Since when was I part of the student council?”

Gathering in the student council room was meant to help me catch up on missed studies—not because I was ever officially recruited. Yet the president looked at me as if it were the most natural thing.

“Hm? Weren’t you undeniably part of the council in your first year? I still remember how brilliantly you fulfilled your role and duties as my aide.”

“No, that was—”

It was true that I had been part of the student council in my first year. Back then, the president was still the vice president, not yet elected to her current position. My role had also been ambiguously defined as the “vice president’s aide.”

Had I not been from House Grave, I likely wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity. I gritted my teeth through it.

Her becoming president would make my future easier in many ways, and I couldn’t even imagine how things would unfold if she didn’t. I remember burning the midnight oil to make it happen.

In this timeline, I have no memory of doing such a thing, but I probably played the role of kingmaker—no, queenmaker—just as I had in the previous world.

“Had it not been for you, I would never have become president. And if that were the case, I wouldn’t have met the wonderful colleagues who now help me lead this academy. No amount of gratitude would be enough.”

“If you truly feel that way, I have one request. Would you hear me out, Madam President?”

“Hm, anything!”

Watching her nod confidently, I sighed in relief. Had she refused, I’d have been at a complete loss.

“Thank you.”

“So, what’s this request? A dangerous monster subjugation request? Or perhaps finding a lost cat? Or maybe—”

“Just buy me one meal.”

“What?”

I rubbed my stomach, making my hunger obvious.

“Sadly, there isn’t a single considerate restaurant near the academy willing to serve someone like me. I even considered the dining hall, but… I ended up turning back.”

It was true that I’d stopped by the dining hall. But after seeing today’s menu, I realized eating there would only make my empty stomach hurt rather than fill it, so I had no choice but to leave.

I even debated whether improving the academy’s cafeteria menu should take priority over upgrading the combat training facilities.

“Hm! A wise choice indeed. It’ll take a little more time before I can fully improve the dining hall’s quality! Until then, all I can do is apologize and ask the students to endure… It infuriates me.”

As she drooped her head helplessly, I couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re improving the dining hall? Where’s the budget for that coming from? Did those stingy folks at the Academy Development Committee approve it?”

Even the student council, which oversees the academy’s general discipline and regulations, can’t escape the logic of money. Despite the generous donations from numerous benefactors and the empire’s overflowing financial support, leaving it entirely in the students’ hands would invite disaster.

That’s why, separate from the student council’s accounting division, there exists an organization responsible for allocating the academy’s overall budget—the Academy Development Committee.

——

“How shocking. To think the tuition my parents and others pay is being used like this…”

“Impressed. Yet hard to believe.”

“The Academy Development Committee—what a nostalgic name. I wonder if they’re all still in good health.”

The Academy Development Committee isn’t widely known, but it’s a legally recognized organization. However, the means to learn of its existence are extremely limited, so few are aware of it.

“Don’t worry, they’re not just in good health—they’re practically flying around. If you heard how much the president buttered them up at the start of this fiscal year to secure the budget, you’d be stunned.”

“Oh my, what a relief. Count Cash has his chronic illness, after all. I was worried something serious might happen.”

“You’ll be part of the budget planning next year, so you’ll see for yourself. It’s a spectacle.”

Last year’s budget planning session happened before Luciella and the others joined the student council. Their enrollment was a last-ditch measure to control a troublemaker like me.

“Pfft.”

The memory of the president, usually so dignified, desperately trying to appear ladylike in a dress while addressing everyone with exaggerated politeness, made me burst out laughing.

“U-um, Young Master Grave. May I ask one question?”

At Dave’s hesitant raising of his hand, I responded indifferently.

“What?”

“Is this Academy Development Committee truly trustworthy? Managing the academy’s finances—just thinking about it, the sums handled and moved within it must be beyond imagination. They say a significant portion of the empire’s budget is invested in the academy. So if even one person in that committee harbors ill intentions, the consequences… I can’t help but doubt.”

“Our parents’ hard-earned taxes—wasted just like that?”

“That won’t happen, so don’t worry.”

“But—”

“You should explain properly, Eric. Leaving it at that would make anyone suspicious.”

Cecilia scolded me before calmly elaborating.

“Your concerns are valid, but at least in the current empire, such worries are unnecessary.”

“Really?”

“First, the committee’s chairman is Duke Bright—the empire’s current Minister of Finance. Does that ease your mind somewhat?”

“Convinced…!”

Haven’t heard that name in a while.