"Where should we go first?" Milleia asked.
I elbowed Jayden in the side while he was busy daydreaming like an idiot.
Wake up, seduce her, and awaken her bloodline already.
Honestly, I was getting tired of doing half of Jayden's work for him. The guy was too soft. At this rate, he'd get his future wife stolen right in front of him and apologize for being in the way.
"...!"
He jolted slightly and, finally understanding what I meant, stepped toward Milleia.
"H-How about we look at swords first?" Jayden asked with a smile that was only a little forced. "You said that was your first choice, right?"
At least he sounded somewhat confident.
"Ah… thanks, Jayden," Milleia replied, nodding shyly. She looked a bit surprised by his sudden initiative, but not uncomfortable.
Good.
That was a start.
I gave a small nod of approval.
For now, it was going well.
"What are you doing?"
Lyra leaned toward me and whispered the question near my ear.
As expected, she had noticed what I was trying to do.
"Helping my friend hook up with my other friend."
"Do you really think I'll believe that?"
Her voice was polite.
Her expression was smiling.
Her eyes, however, were not.
"You definitely have a reason for doing this," she continued quietly. "You may have changed a little, Edward, but only a little. Your arrogance and the way you think highly of yourself haven't diminished in the slightest."
"..."
That was harsh.
Annoyingly harsh.
"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked, answering her suspicion with one of my own.
"Jayden is interested in Milleia, and Milleia isn't uncomfortable around Jayden."
I leaned closer too so my voice wouldn't carry.
What perfume was she wearing?
It smelled good.
Sweet, but not too much.
[
Oh.
I straightened my thoughts immediately.
"I don't believe for a second that you're worried about Milleia just out of kindness either, Lyra," I whispered. "You have your own reason. And I think I know what it is."
"Oh?" Lyra kept smiling. "And what could that be?"
"She has Raphiel's bloodline."
For the first time since this conversation began, Lyra's smile vanished.
Pure shock flashed across her face.
Because I wasn't supposed to know that.
Only a very limited number of people had been made aware of Milleia's bloodline, and I definitely shouldn't have been among them.
I was Edward.
The wrong Edward, at that.
But her reaction told me enough.
Could it be that when she went to greet Aurora and my siblings earlier, she had asked them whether I knew anything about Milleia?
Yeah.
That had to be it.
Ever since the beginning, she must have been wary of the fact that I had somehow gotten close to both Milleia and Jayden.
Still, there was something else I wanted to know.
"Tell me, Lyra."
"..."
Her face turned serious.
"Are you acting like her friend for your own benefit," I asked quietly, "or because you're afraid of what I might do to her?"
There was no way someone like Lyra would believe in my 'change' just because I had helped a little during lunch.
Maybe she would never believe it.
And honestly, I couldn't blame her.
She was a high-ranking noble, the daughter of a Marquis. Since childhood, she had been raised the same way I had been raised.
Trust no one more than yourself.
Among nobles, that was one of the first rules carved into your bones.
For a few seconds, Lyra stayed silent.
Then her smile returned, though this time it looked more measured than natural.
"I'm not acting like a friend, Edward."
She took a small step back from me.
"I genuinely like Milleia."
Her eyes drifted toward Milleia, who was now speaking with Jayden behind me.
"I'll admit that at first, my interest was selfish. But as a noble, I cannot bring myself to deceive someone like her. You understand that, don't you, Edward? I like her. And I hope you have no ill intentions toward her."
There was a threat hidden in those words.
Not open.
Not vulgar.
But definitely there.
"..."
I simply looked at her.
Yeah.
This was the real Lyra.
In a novel or a manga, she would have been the kind of girl who changed her whole opinion of me after one decent act.
But this was real life.
She had been wary of me from the very start, and she had every reason to be.
"I have my own reasons for trying to bring those two together," I said calmly. "I'm under no obligation to explain anything to you, Lyra. If you're that worried about what I might do, then keep watching me like you've been doing since yesterday."
Then I turned and walked away.
"Edward, where are you going?" Milleia asked.
I ignored her.
"Leave him, Milleia," Lyra said smoothly, already stepping in with that social butterfly grace of hers. "Let's choose a weapon for you. Right, Jayden?"
"...yes!"
….
….
[
Cleenah asked.
'I don't know. Maybe she'll observe first and see how things develop.'
[
If I was wrong and she decided to interfere, huh…
Then I'll go through her by force.
[
Support me for once, useless Goddess!
[Goddess Cleenah is not wrong. You must become stronger.]
'Then tell your dumb master to give me more artifacts!'
[I can't.]
Of course you can't.
I cursed both Cleenah and Jarvis in my head and wandered off toward one of the quieter corners of the hall.
"Hm?"
Now that I looked properly, there really was a random stand tucked away near the far edge of the room. Barely anyone was paying attention to it. No students hovered there, no crowd gathered around it, and even from a distance the display looked painfully plain.
The man behind it looked just as random.
Actually, 'random' was generous.
He looked like a beggar who had gotten lost and somehow wandered into the academy.
Well… if you could even call the things on his table proper weapons.
No, they were weapons.
Technically.
They just weren't attractive ones.
Staffs.
Nothing but staffs.
Different sizes, different thicknesses, but still just staffs.
Wait…
Could this be one of those clichés?
The lonely, unpopular old master nobody respects, who turns out to be absurdly strong and teaches some broken weapon style that shocks everyone later?
…That would be hilarious.
I immediately changed direction and headed for his table.
When I stopped in front of it, the middle-aged man raised his head. He had brown hair with streaks of gray and a face that looked both tired and permanently irritated. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as though he hadn't expected anyone to approach.
"Old man."
He blinked.
"Are you really working for the academy," I asked, "or are you just a lost beggar?"
That was a fair question.
His clothes looked overused enough to have survived three wars and a famine.
"I work here, brat," he replied shooting me a glare.
"Nobody else seems convinced of your abilities, though."
"You've got a nasty tongue. Show some respect to your elders."
I shrugged and looked down at the weapons laid out on the table.
"..."
Staff.
Staffs.
More staffs.
The only real difference between them was length.
"Why did you choose a staff as a weapon instead of a spear?" I asked. "They're almost the same thing, except the spear is better. Or are you just poor?"
"Give me some respect!"
He finally snapped.
"Want to know the answer?" he asked. "Fine. Wait here."
The man stepped away from the stand and headed to another table. About a minute later, he returned carrying a spear.
"Hold my spear."
"Okay?"
I took the spear from him and wrapped my hand around the shaft.
It was a little heavy, but manageable.
"Now swing it. A few times."
I did as he said, awkwardly of course, because I had never seriously wielded one before. I swung it, adjusted my grip, then thrust forward.
The sharp tip sliced through the air with a satisfying sound.
A smile spread across my face almost immediately.
I liked that.
A lot.
Honestly, I had originally planned to choose a sword.
But maybe I should consider taking a spear as a second weapon.
"Now try this."
The old man handed me a staff.
I grimaced.
"Try it, brat!"
"Yeah, yeah, since you're begging so hard."
"I wasn't beg—!"
What a weird old man.
I took the staff anyway and copied the same movements I had used with the spear—swings, thrusts, a few half-hearted adjustments.
At first, I felt nothing special.
Then, after about a minute, I noticed it.
A very clear difference.
My expression shifted before I could hide it.
When I stopped, the old man crossed his arms and nodded with a satisfied smile.
"Not bad, brat. You're smart enough to understand."
"Yeah…"
It was much easier to control.
Much lighter in motion.
Much cleaner.
The staff responded more smoothly to changes in direction, and I didn't have to account for the weight of a blade or tip dragging the balance forward.
"The spear may be stronger and flashier," the old man said, "which makes it appealing to brats like you. But why do you think there are still people in this world who choose staffs over spears?"
"Its maneuverability."
"Exactly."
He nodded again, then spun the staff once in his hand with quite ease.
"Fast. Balanced. The absence of a blade at the tip makes all the difference. It offers true versatility in both offense and defense. A spear is excellent, yes, but it leans too heavily into attack."
I listened more attentively than I wanted to admit.
"I see, old man…"
"Hmph. I told you, brat, don't judge a book by its cover. I am Julian, the bigges—"
"Thanks," I said, already turning away. "But I'm taking a sword. The staff is boring."
I waved lazily and started walking off.
Behind me, silence.
Then I glanced back and saw Julian standing there with the expression of a betrayed man whose son had just spat on his life's work.
I ignored it and kept moving.
Yeah, my opinion of the staff had improved.
Quite a bit, actually.
But I still needed a weapon that could inflict lethal damage easily.
And for that, a sword made more sense.
"Wait!!"
Julian suddenly ran after me and stepped right into my path.
"Old man, I'm honestly touched by your need for money, but I can—"
"I don't need your money, brat!"
He thrust something toward me.
A thick brown staff, around two meters long.
"It can shrink," he said. "You can wield it more like a sword if you want."
"There's still no blade."
"Don't worry. I have others."
"I am not worried at all."
"Good. Then take this too."
He shoved a book into my hands.
"Take care of it. Inside are a few movements from an ancient martial art. They'll help you."
"No," I said, "because I'm not going to use a staf—"
"Brat! Enough!"
His voice boomed hard enough that I stopped talking.
"Trust me," he said, glaring straight into my eyes. "You will not regret it."
"..."
I stared back at him.
For the first time since meeting him, he wasn't acting like an eccentric weirdo.
He was dead serious.
"If you want pure offense," Julian continued, his tone calmer now, "then yes, a spear or sword may suit you better. I won't deny that. But that is exactly why I'm giving you this book."
He tapped the cover with one finger before pushing it more into my hands.
"This will show you what a staff can become in the right hands."
I looked down at the staff.
Then at the book.
Then back at him.
Finally, I sighed.
"If I take it, it'll be as a second weapon. And I'm not promising anything."
"As long as you try it."
That seemed to satisfy him.
Julian smiled, turned around, and went back to his deserted stand as though he had just secured the future of martial arts itself.
'What do you think, Cleenah?'
[
What?!
[
I had no idea what she was talking about, so I ignored that part entirely.
We were only allowed to choose one official weapon.
So I just hoped, for my sake, that whatever I picked would be worth it.