Chapter 232: Normal Days
The second semester of the Imperial Academy had officially begun.
For most cadets, that meant a return to grueling lectures, brutal practical combat training, and the endless suffering that naturally came with the academy’s curriculum.
For me, however, it meant something far more insidious.
Paperwork. A literal mountain of it.
I stared blankly at the towering stack of documents occupying nearly half the central table inside the Gourmet & Ecology Exploration Clubroom, seriously considering setting the entire pile on fire. The thought lingered in my mind for several deeply tempting seconds. Unfortunately, as appealing as arson sounded, destroying official academy property would probably just result in twice as much paperwork afterward.
Life was incredibly cruel.
Across the table, Clara Marigold peeked over the fortress of documents, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
"Thinking about arson again, President?"
I slowly raised my head, giving her a deadpan stare. "...Again?"
"The fact that you didn’t deny it is highly concerning," Clara noted, her grin widening.
"I was merely weighing my options."
Clara gasped, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. "You admitted it!"
"You’re acting as if burning bureaucratic red tape is a crime against humanity."
"It is an actual crime, Lucien."
I pointed a stiff finger toward the mountain of papers. "Then this should be considered a capital offense."
Clara followed my finger. There were club re-registration reports. Budget requests. Supply requisition forms. Facility maintenance logs. Event planning mandates. Several thick forms I was fairly certain only existed because the academy’s administration actively enjoyed making cadets suffer.
Even Clara’s cheerful smile faltered slightly as she took in the sheer volume of it. "...Okay. I completely understand your point."
"Thank you."
"It’s still illegal, though."
I sighed heavily, rubbing my temples. This was exactly why I hated positions of authority. People always romanticized leadership, imagining it was all about power and influence. Nobody ever warned you about the soul-crushing logistics.
A quiet, muffled laugh came from the corner of the room.
Mariella immediately lowered her head the moment I glanced in her direction. The timid mage had been sitting beside the window the entire afternoon, pretending to read a magic theory book while secretly listening to every conversation in the room. Not that she was particularly good at hiding it.
The six-shot revolver I had given her rested on the table right beside her book, its metal gleaming flawlessly under the afternoon sunlight.
I wasn’t even surprised anymore. At this point, Mariella maintained that gun with the same religious dedication other noble girls reserved for high-end jewelry. If someone told me she slept with the revolver tucked under her pillow, I probably wouldn’t even question it.
Noticing my gaze, Mariella instinctively reached out and hugged the revolver protectively against her chest.
I hadn’t even said a word. She just looked incredibly guilty on pure instinct.
"..." "..."
I looked away. Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting.
Elisha, who was lounging on a nearby sofa with an archery manual, snorted in amusement. "At this point, I’m fairly certain she likes that gun more than she likes most people."
Mariella immediately shook her head in frantic denial.
Then she paused.
She looked down at the polished revolver in her arms. A deeply complicated, conflicting expression slowly appeared on her flushed face.
Elisha burst out laughing. Even I nearly lost my composure.
"That hesitation answered the question perfectly," Elisha teased.
Mariella’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. But before she could attempt a flustered defense, the clubroom door slid open.
Ariana walked inside, carrying several thick, leather-bound notebooks pressed against her chest. The silver-haired alchemist looked around the room briefly before walking over and naturally taking the empty seat right beside me.
Nobody reacted. Nobody even looked surprised.
The Gourmet & Ecology Exploration Club had essentially been hijacked by the protagonist party during the first semester. And after months of watching Ariana and me operate in tandem, our proximity had just become normal. Expected, even.
Clara glanced between us, resting her chin on the table with a dramatic, theatrical sigh. "Ah, young love."
Ariana blinked, tilting her head.
I immediately felt a migraine forming behind my eyes. "Clara."
"Yes?"
"Stop."
"I haven’t even said anything else yet!"
"Experience tells me whatever comes next will be incredibly annoying."
"That’s rude," Clara pouted.
"You’ve earned it."
Clara looked absolutely delighted by the banter, which was exactly the problem with her.
Meanwhile, Ariana had already opened one of her heavy notebooks and slid it across the table toward me. Several pages densely packed with highly complicated alchemical formulas, reagent ratios, and mana-stabilization calculations stared back at me.
I immediately frowned. "Ariana, why does this formula look dangerous?"
"Because it is," she answered plainly.
"That wasn’t a joke."
"Neither was my answer."
I closed the notebook. Instantly.
Ariana looked mildly offended, her violet eyes narrowing. "You didn’t even read the stabilization catalyst section."
"I enjoy having eyebrows, Ari," I said flatly, sliding the book back to her.
The silver-haired girl stared at me for several seconds before letting out a soft, disappointed sigh. "You have absolutely no appreciation for scientific progress."
"I have a deep appreciation for scientific progress," I corrected, pointing a stern finger at the leather cover. "I don’t appreciate scientific progress when it has a documented, recent history of exploding in the estate’s basement."
"It only exploded twice."
"TWICE?"
"Statistically speaking, that is not a large number."
"That is exactly two more explosions than I would prefer inside my own house!"
Clara was already laughing into her hands. Elisha had completely abandoned her archery book, highly amused by the domestic dispute. Even Mariella was trying—and failing miserably—to hide a smile behind her revolver.
The atmosphere inside the clubroom was surprisingly lively. It was comfortable. It was... normal.
After everything that had happened over the past few months, I found myself appreciating mundane moments like these far more than I cared to admit.
There were no sudden terrorist attacks. No hidden demon worshippers plotting in the sewers. No ancient, apocalyptic conspiracies rearing their ugly heads. I wasn’t even running around the continent collecting mythic artifacts anymore—I had already happily offloaded that suicidal chore to the Executioner.
It was just a bunch of cadets wasting a quiet afternoon arguing about bureaucratic nonsense and unstable alchemy.
It was peaceful.
Suspiciously, unnervingly peaceful.
And knowing my luck, that was the most terrifying thing of all.
