I Woke Up and Became a National Hero (2)
Whether or not a battle for the nation's fate was drawing near, Mrs. Canton's carefully prepared afternoon tea was delicious.
Cream puffs filled with orange custard, Victoria sponge cake layered with jam and fresh cream, and tiny cucumber sandwiches — every bite was delightful.
Though modest in appearance, each item was rich in flavor and made from excellent ingredients. Paired with bergamot-scented tea, it was heavenly.
Behemoth, not to be outdone, pushed his snout toward a plate.
Chomp, chomp, chomp.
"Mmm, quite tasty."
"Drink your tea while you eat."
The cat bit into a large piece of cake. Worried it might get stuck in his throat, Cleio poured a bit of tea onto a saucer.
Perched on the table, Behemoth alternated between bites of cake and laps of tea, his tail swaying contentedly.
After sharing snacks with his feline companion, Cleio planned to head upstairs for another nap — but unexpected visitors ruined that plan.
"Ray!"
"They said you collapsed!"
The moment the butler opened the parlor doors, Lippi and Leticia burst in like a gust of wind.
It had only been four days, but the twins acted as though they hadn't seen Cleio in months.
"It was nothing serious. The doctor already came — just ether depletion."
"Really?"
"We were all so worried."
"That's why we came to visit with our teacher."
"Isiel and Chel wanted to come too, but they're busy with the student patrol duty."
"Since the Gate opened, they're recruiting volunteers for the patrol!"
The twins flanked Cleio on both sides and chattered endlessly.
"We read about you in the papers! You were amazing!"
"Amazing, my foot. The articles exaggerated everything."
"There you go again, being humble!"
"Now the whole capital knows how incredible your magic is!"
Their noisy energy made Cleio press his fingers to his temple, his headache returning.
Then, Knight Swain Temple entered — along with Zebedi, under his protection.
It seemed Swain had gone earlier to summon him.
This time, Professor Zebedi wore not his usual shabby robe but the formal regalia of the Royal Arcane Inspector, giving off an imposing aura.
Striding briskly into the parlor, Zebedi clicked his tongue the moment he saw Cleio.
"I came as soon as I heard you'd awakened, but even after four days in bed, you still look half-dead! You're pale as parchment."
"I may look it, but I'm fine. I heard you arranged a great deal while I was unconscious. Thank you."
"How could I sit idle after such an event? As headmaster and royal inspector, it's my duty to ensure the safety of a student mage who fought a monster."
When Cleio tried to stand to greet him properly, Zebedi waved him down.
"Sit, sit. Mrs. Canton said your ether hasn't fully recovered. No need to strain yourself."
Cleio had no objection to that; he melted back into the sofa at once.
"Sir Swain, you may relax as well."
"No, sir!!! I must fulfill my duty to protect the Arcane Inspector!!!"
His voice thundered through the parlor. The knight stood rigidly by the door in full uniform — light armor, longsword, and all — impressive, but no one inside seemed particularly moved.
"With two mages present, what danger could there be? Well, do as you like."
Ignoring Swain, Zebedi swept his robe aside and sat opposite Cleio.
Click—clack.
Just as he was about to speak, Mrs. Canton entered pushing a trolley loaded with new desserts, freshly brewed tea, and gilded teacups for everyone.
The twins' eyes sparkled. The large parlor filled quickly with cheerful chatter as the tea was served.
Mrs. Canton poured first for Zebedi, then handed plates to the twins.
"Wow! Mrs. Canton, this orange puff is amazing!"
"How's this Victoria cake so soft and fragrant?"
"It's a special Aser family recipe. Thank you for visiting the young master — there's plenty, please have more."
Behemoth, stomach round and satisfied, narrowed his eyes and curled up in Cleio's lap.
"Mraoww… (This parlor sounds like a marketplace.)"
He wasn't wrong. Cleio was utterly overwhelmed. Yet Zebedi calmly sipped his tea before speaking firmly.
"Cleio, you still look weak, so I'll keep it brief. Let's talk about your commendation."
"Commendation…? That's rather sudden."
"Sudden? Not at all. The buildings in the Oreilles district were so old that even a small shock could've been disastrous. If you hadn't lured the monster away, the elderly and destitute who hadn't yet relocated would've perished."
"I didn't do it with such noble intent…"
Zebedi apparently mistook Cleio's reluctance for humility.
"You did an excellent thing. Your fame has spread throughout all of Rundane, so His Highness the Crown Prince decided swiftly — you are to be awarded the Capital Defense Medal."
Ah, so that's it. Distract the public with a new hero to draw attention away from the security threat. Well played, Your Highness.
After all, a mysterious Gate opening in the middle of the capital was hardly reassuring news.
Being dragged into politics wasn't exactly Cleio's idea of fun. His reply came out curt.
"And what's the benefit of receiving that?"
"Such insolence!" Zebedi clicked his tongue. Cleio couldn't care less. Titles and ceremonies bored him.
The ones truly shocked were the twins.
"Ray, you don't even know?"
"The Capital Defense Medal's only given to those who save the city! It's the third-highest honor in Albion!"
"No one's received it in a century! Our great-grandfather was the last one!"
"You'll be Sir Aser now!"
As children of a knightly family, the twins were well-versed in honors.
"Quiet, you two."
"Yes, Professor!"
"Sorry! We just couldn't believe Ray didn't know!"
Pouting, they turned their attention back to their desserts and tea.
"Cleio, since you seem clueless, I'll explain. As the girls said, the Capital Defense Medal grants you a rank equivalent to knighthood. You'll be addressed as 'Sir.'"
"I see…"
Cleio's reaction was flat.
So what? It's not like it pays.
Sensing his indifference, Zebedi shifted to practical details — quickly realizing this student had no interest in honor or prestige.
Is he naïve, or just detached from worldly matters?
"The second benefit is a lifetime pension. Twelve thousand dinars annually."
This time, Cleio reacted. His eyes, previously half-lidded, snapped open.
Twelve thousand a year… that's about 1.2 million in gold value. Getting paid for doing nothing? Not bad. No wonder the medal's rarely awarded.
"The third clause is largely symbolic, but I'll mention it anyway: recipients are permitted to bring animals into palace grounds for royal banquets. A tradition dating back to King Leonid I and his pet lion."
Cleio's widened eyes drooped again. Such an old country sure had some eccentric rules.
The twins exchanged glances and whispered excitedly.
"So he can bring him to the Autumn Banquet?"
Lippi pointed at Behemoth.
The cat perked up, ears twitching under their gaze.
"There's a summer birthday celebration and a winter banquet, right?"
"Last year's banquet food was incredible."
"The boiled oysters and prawns in Savlier sauce!"
"The Parmesan soufflé and roast snipe!"
"So good."
"I want it again."
Hearing this, Behemoth kneaded Cleio's thigh with his paws, eyes sparkling like stars.
"Mraoww—mreow! (Did you hear that? You must take me to that banquet!)"
Trapped between the excited twins and the demanding cat, Cleio could only sigh shallowly.
"And now, the final matter," Zebedi said. "This isn't a proposal from the Royal Arcane Inspector, but from a teacher. Will you become my apprentice?"
Cleio blinked. "Aren't I already your student?"
"Not one of many students — my research apprentice. The one who will inherit my incantations and formulas."
A red alert flared in Cleio's mind. His instincts as a long-time editor of academic publications screamed danger.
Wait a minute. Isn't this basically him asking me to go to graduate school?
"I'm… not qualified to receive such an honor."
"Boy, don't reject it right away. Think on it first before giving me an answer."
Cleio hastily activated the Promise's "Memory" to check whether Zebedi had ever taken a disciple before — but there wasn't a single mention of such a thing.
Zebedi's tone softened as he misread Cleio's hesitation.
"It must seem sudden, since I've never taken a disciple before. But Cleio, you possess perfect recall of magic formulas, don't you? So do I. That talent cannot be earned through effort — it must be innate."
Cleio curled his left hand — the one with the Promise — into a fist. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. He felt like a fraud.
No, sir. You're a true genius. In my case, it's just the artifact doing all the work…
"The student who inherits my entire body of work must, of course, have perfect recall. I once thought I'd never find one and that my destiny simply ended here."
Well, no wonder you've never had an apprentice. With standards like that, you never will! Just stop looking!
Though his thoughts were a mess, Cleio found nothing polite to say aloud. Zebedi, misreading his silence again, rose from his seat.
"I'm not asking for an answer right away. You still have years before graduation — take your time and think it through. I'm granting you two weeks' medical leave. Rest and recover your strength."
"Thank you for such a generous offer, Professor. I'll see you in two weeks."
As Zebedi stood, the twins got up as well.
"Right, Ray — eat well and get healthy!"
"Your problem isn't ether depletion, it's stamina depletion!"
"See you in two weeks!"
When everyone left, the sun had already set.
Exhausted, Cleio left Mrs. Canton to handle the farewells and dragged himself straight to bed.
***
Cleio planned to sleep for a full day and a half — but was woken by an unfamiliar presence.
It was the middle of the night.
Half-conscious, he turned his head — and immediately recognized the figure sitting in a chair beside his bed.
Even in total darkness, that overwhelming presence was unmistakable.
Arthur.
If he'd come through the front door, Mrs. Canton would've woken Cleio first.
What, did he crawl in through the window again? That damn prince… tch.
"You sneak through windows at this hour, and people will think you're a thief. You'd deserve it if someone stabbed you."
Cleio's voice was hoarse from sleep, his head still buried in the pillow.
"Would you stab me, then?"
"If you keep doing things like this, I might consider it. What brings you here at this hour?"
"I had no time until now. Got summoned to the palace — long day."
As Cleio's eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Arthur in formal royal attire for once. The shoulder epaulets and sash shimmered faintly in the dim light.
The crimson royal uniform — identical to the one buried somewhere in Cleio's own wardrobe.
"If you're so busy, why not go about your royal business instead of bothering me?"
"You wouldn't return to the academy, so I came to check if you were alive."
"If I were dead, it'd be in the obituary section."
"I read the paper, actually. The spell that killed the monster — that was the same one that flipped your patronage, wasn't it?"
"…What?"
"I heard you only just managed to get out of bed. Are you still in pain?"
"I was never in pain, just tired. I would've been better if you hadn't woken me up."
"Come on, don't be so cold. Have a drink. Your governess and head maid probably don't let you touch alcohol, right?"
Arthur pulled a flask from somewhere inside his immaculate uniform and offered it.
Still half-lying down, Cleio took it — and grimaced as the harsh stench of cheap gin hit his nose.
He considered dumping it back in Arthur's lap, but the prince looked oddly deflated. So he took a small sip. Clearly, Arthur wouldn't speak his mind until he'd had a drink.
Ugh. Disgusting. My skull's ringing. Who even drinks this junk?
When Cleio handed the flask back, Arthur tilted his head and gulped several mouthfuls straight.
What the hell happened to him?
Cleio waited for Arthur to start talking — but yawned repeatedly while he stalled.
Finally, after draining half the flask, Arthur spoke.
"…Why do you insist on carrying every burden alone?"
"Burden? What burden?"
"You knew the monster was going to appear. Otherwise, why would you have been in a place like the Oreilles district?"
Cleio nearly dislocated his jaw mid-yawn.
Oh, for crying out loud!
I was checking on my property, not playing hero!
But telling Arthur about his private land holdings seemed unwise. The prince's finances were already strained — bragging about money would only make him think of borrowing some.
"That was… a coincidence."
"Coincidence, huh? Why do you always hide your abilities — your noble sacrifices — as if you're afraid they'll put you in danger?"
Arthur's words were so far off the mark that Cleio screamed internally.
Good lord! They say a Buddha sees Buddhas and a pig sees pigs, but this guy's brain is made of flowers!
"Noble— please. Stop spouting nonsense and go home. I'm sleeping."
"How heartless."
Arthur set the flask down and shifted in his seat, the sword at his hip clinking softly.
At that moment, Cleio felt a faint sense of wrongness.
Instinctively, he sat up and frowned, activating Perception.
The familiar dizziness hit — and beyond it came a sharp, metallic tang.
The smell of iron and blood.
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